


Nightmares

by Ironkhaleesi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Multi, One Shot, Polyandry, SPN - Freeform, Sam - Freeform, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, castiel fan fiction, dean fan fiction, dean winchester fan fiction, fan fiction, sam fan fiction, sam winchester fan fiction, supernatural fan fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:13:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 60
Words: 413,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3604620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironkhaleesi/pseuds/Ironkhaleesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You (reader) will be inserted into the Supernatural storyline (starting from s7ep17) as the girlfriend of both Sam and Dean. You were molested as a child and ended up in a mental health hospital as a result. This is where you meet Sam and Dean, and your polyamorous adventures begin. In this story, you must find a way to balance your hunter life, romantic life, and mental illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Our Nightmares Come From

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 5 and onwards are set in the episodes of Supernatural, and each chapter follows the plot of an episode.

Sam looked upon his sludge filled tray in disgust. If there was one thing he missed about being out on the road, it was the food. And that’s something that he never thought he’d say. Right now though, he would even settle for one of Dean’s greasy burgers that wreaked havoc on his digestive system. He was about ninety percent sure that whatever was on his tray right now wasn’t even edible.

Sam sighed and collapsed back in his chair, a pout forming on his lips as he looked around the room. He took everything in, from the old lady sneaking extra sludge to the forty year old talking to an imaginary parrot called Paul. He even spared a glance for the nurse that rolled her eyes at the patient banging his head on the wall muttering something about getting out of the Trojan horse.

The place was bleak and depressing. He supposed he shouldn’t have expected any better. The place was filled with broken people. People who had lost their way, people that collapsed under the weight of their nightmares, and some people that were just unlucky enough to inherit their grandfather’s schizophrenia. Either way, they were all broken. Emotionally, psychologically, it didn’t matter which, it was all the same in here. They were all here because the people they loved couldn’t help them, couldn’t give them what they needed. In some cases they just couldn’t find the strength to love them. It hurt Sam to know that he was counted amongst these people. Though it wasn’t Dean’s fault he was here in the first place, Sam knew that he was running out of options. It would have only been a matter of time before he ended up here anyway.

“Oh, incoming, hottie at twelve o’clock,” Lucifer said in delight as he watched you come strolling over in the mandatory uniform, though you wore a long sleeved shirt underneath it. Sam didn’t reply, but he did look up as you collapsed down into the chair across from him and graced him with a smile.

“Don’t worry, T-Rex. The sludge is an acquired taste. Only Ruth thinks it’s God’s gift to man,” you said, nodding towards the old lady that Sam had spotted earlier. “She hoards the stuff like it’s the day of reckoning. She’s a vulture too, so guard your tray with your life.”

A smile ghosted Sam’s lips as he looked down at the food in question. “She can have it.”

“That’s all there is to eat in here. You’ll starve.”

Sam looked up at you. “Good. Maybe I can finally get out of this place then,” he joked.

You got very serious all of a sudden and rubbed at the inside of your forearm absently. “You shouldn’t joke about that,” you said softly, staring off into the distance.

Sam’s eyes flickered from your face to your arm and back again. He made the connection almost instantly but didn’t over step his boundaries. Besides, you could have been thinking about a family member, not yourself. Though it was unlikely considering where you were. Sam opened his mouth to apologise for the offense, but you seemed to snap out of your reverie and turned to him with another bright smile. You leaned across the table towards him.

“If you’re really against the sludge, I can hook you up with some real food,” you whispered. Sam leaned across the table as well, intrigued by your offer. “You look like the gym junkie type,” you continued. “What do you want? Protein shake? Steak? Oh no, wait, I got it,” you clicked your fingers, making Sam smile slightly at your excitement. “Caesar salad! With chicken?”

Sam chuckled. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t give you anything in return.”

You shrugged. “Don’t worry about. Newbies eat free the first time. See you around, Rex.” You stood then, and with one last smile you turned your back on Sam.

He watched you for a moment, feeling a moment of peace at the normality he just experienced with you. That all shattered at the sound of Lucifer’s voice. “I like her. She’s damaged goods, but I like them a little dirty and broken.” He gave Sam a lewd wink, hinting at the double entendre in his words.

****

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the bandage around his hand. It was quiet, for once at least. Perhaps Satan was off torturing some other poor soul that had escaped his cage. Doubtful. He was always there, just waiting in the wings until Sam felt like he was safe. That was the worst part, always being on edge, knowing that as soon as he relaxed Lucifer was going to be right there again. Whispering things in his ear. Telling him all the things he already knew.

“Hey, Rex.”

Sam lifted his head to watch where you leaned against his door frame. His brow was furrowed in distress – it always was nowadays – but he forced out a smile for you any way. You saw right thorough it, but didn’t say anything. You’d seen more forced smiles in your life than was acceptable for your age. In fact, you were sure you’d never seen a real smile before. You didn’t even know what it felt like to have one.

You stepped further into the room and held out a foil wrapped package. Sam stared at it a second and then looked up at you. You raised your eyebrows and shook the package at him. “It’s a chicken and Caesar salad wrap. Go on, take it. It won’t bite. At least I’m pretty sure it won’t, I’m not exactly what’s wrong with you, so I hold no responsibility over what you think you see it doing.”

Sam smiled again and took it from you. “Thank you,” he said, tearing at the foil a little enthusiastically.

You moved over and collapsed back on his bed, leaning against the head board as if you were the one that slept there. “So what’s wrong with you?” you asked nonchalantly.  
“That’s a bit forward don’t you think?” Sam replied, giving you an incredulous look.

You gave him a knowing look in return. “You’re in a mental institution, Rex. Ruth steals sludge, Robbie talks to an imaginary parrot and Wanda runs around naked asking everyone to sign her penis. Those are the stable patients.”

Sam snorted. “I guess you’re right. If you must know, they said I had a psychotic break.”

You watched him steadily. “What do you think happened?”

“I think that they’re probably right. I’ve been seeing things that aren’t there. I’m surprised I didn’t become crazy years ago.”

“You’re not crazy,” you said confidently.

“What makes you say that?” Sam asked as he looked up as you.

“Are you hoarding sludge?”

“No,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Then you’re not crazy.”

Sam watched you for a moment, and you stared right back. He marvelled at your simplicity. Yet he knew that underneath it all that you were more complex than you were letting on. He could see it in your eyes. It was the same thing that Dean had in his eyes. You were confident and put together on the outside, but inside, you were a mess. And that was putting it simply. There was so much that you were holding on too, so much eating you up from the inside, but for all the world you appeared as normal and put together as everyone else. Maybe more so.

“What do you think is wrong with me?” Sam asked softly.

You titled your head and considered his question for a moment before answering, “I think you’re dealing with a lot of crap. I think you’ve been through a lot and your mind is just catching up. I don’t think you’re crazy, Rex, I just think you’re learning how to compartmentalise your nightmares. Or at least you need to learn. Shit happens. No matter how bad it is, no matter how horrific it may be, you have to learn that you can’t change it. Your past is set in stone, but you can mould your future however you like. You can’t do that if you hold on to whatever it was that happened to you.”

“It’s not that simple,” Sam said.

“Isn’t it?” you countered.

“If it’s as simple as that, then why are you here?”

You closed your mouth with an audible snap and Sam watched you expectantly. “My story is different,” you finally explained. “People hold on to their past, but my past holds on to me. Now I’m stuck in here, right where it wants me. I can’t change anything, but you can.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

Sam scoffed again and looked down at the wrap that he had yet to bite into. “Because it’s the family business.”

“Family isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes it’s the one thing that tries to destroy you. Sometimes it’s the one thing that actually succeeds in destroying you,” you said.

“Family is all I have left,” Sam replied so quietly that you had to sit up and lean towards him to hear.

You put a hand on his back and gave him a sympathetic look. “Then where are they?”


	2. The Nightmares We Live With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much goes on in this part. You have a bit of a flash back to your child hood, so there’s a little bit of a back story to the reader but you don’t see the entire back story just yet.This part is set a little while after the first part, so you can see a development in the relationship between the reader and Sam, and you see the bond become even stronger towards the end as they both make a few realisations about each other. This part also sets up for Dean’s appearance in part 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Huge warning here guys. The reader’s back story is not pleasant at all and it will more than likely be triggering for some of you. It contains a lot of abuse of the domestic kind. So just be prepared, please, or don’t read it at all. Her flash backs are all in italics, so you can skip them if you want, but there will be a time or two where she tells Sam about it. I will try and put indicators around those parts, but their bond isn’t going to make a lot of sense if you don’t know about her past, so if that kind of stuff is triggering, then I would recommend not reading the series at all.

Your mother took your arm in a bruising grip and pulled you roughly in against her. “Stop crying,” she hissed. “You’re going to go to school tomorrow, and you’re going to tell your teacher that you were lying. I didn’t work my ass off to get where I am now, just to have you ruin it all.”

“But – but I wasn’t lying,” you sobbed. 

She yanked on your arm again and you cried out at the pain that shot through your shoulder. “You think I don’t know that? You keep it to yourself, Y/N. If you tell people about what he does to you then you won’t have a father any more. Is that what you want? Without him we won’t have a home or money and I won’t be able to buy the things that make me happy. Don’t you want mummy to be happy? Well?” 

Another yank on your arm had you hastily nodding in agreement. “I don’t like it when he touches me though. Mrs Romanov said he wasn’t allowed to do it. She said he was a bad man,” you mumbled, head hanging in shame.

She snarled at you and you flinched away from the burn of the alcohol on her breath. The vice around your arm didn’t loosen. “Your teacher is nothing but a lying bitch. You’re eleven years old. Take responsibility for your own actions. If you don’t want him to touch you, then don’t entice him. Your father is a good man. The best man you will ever know. You make him do bad things. Don’t blame other people for your mistakes, you spoilt little brat. He does everything for you.”

“Y/N?” 

You blinked slowly and found your own reflection staring back at you with Sam right behind it. You turned and smiled at him, mentally shaking off the remnants of your memory. “Hey, Rex. What brings you into the bat cave?” 

He smiled. “I just brought you some food.”

You gave him a suspicious look and took the fast food burger that he held out. “Where did you get this? I thought I was the only one with connections like this.”

“My brother. He brings me stuff sometimes if I ask for it. I thought it would be a good way to pay you back. You said the other night that you felt like one, and I don’t have to make appointments to get food,” he added with a knowing look. 

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t have someone waiting on my call twenty four seven,” you said dryly as you walked past him and sat down on your bed.

He chuckled at your comment and pulled a chair over to sit down in front of you. “Are you okay?” he asked after a moment of silence in which you scoffed down half the burger.

“Hmm?” you mumbled through your chipmunk chips.

The corner of his mouth tilted up at the sight, but he tried his best to keep the concerned look. “It’s just, you seemed pretty out of it in the bathroom. I called your name a few times and you didn’t answer. Are you on strong medication or something?” 

You forced yourself to swallow what was in your mouth and said, “No, they can’t put me on medication.” He cocked an eyebrow at you. “I used to be addicted to prescription medication. I asked – or more like begged – them not to put me on anything that would make me loopy or sleepy or something like that. I’m only on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills, but even those are weak and don’t really do anything. I only take them to keep the nurses off my back though.”

You looked up and sighed at the puppy dog eyes that Sam was giving you. “Don’t look at me like that. Nearly everyone in this institution is on anti-depressants or anti-anxiety medication. Hell, a good chunk of the population is.” 

“That doesn’t make your pain any less,” he said sincerely.

“Yeah, alright Doctor Phil, I’ll try and remember that,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. 

He pressed his lips together in disapproval but said nothing of your rebuttal. “Are you okay, though? What happened in the bathroom?”

You shrugged and played with the wrapper around your burger. “Nothing unusual, I was just thinking.”

“You always go into a trance when you’re thinking?” he asked with a smirk. You gave him a playful glare and began finishing off your burger. 

“What happened to you? Why are you in here?” Sam asked once you began scrunching up the empty wrapper.

You tossed it into a nearby bin and looked at him for a moment. “My mother put me in here.” 

When you didn’t say anything further he asked, “Why?”

You shrugged. “The story’s boring. Not something you want to hear.”

“I told you why I was in here,” he said.

“You had the option not to. Right now, I’m exercising my option not to.”

He scoffed and fell back in his chair. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

You smiled and replied, “If you’re looking for fair, then you’re in the wrong place buddy.” You crawled up the bed and leaned against the headboard. “Where’s your brother? Did he not stay for long?”

Sam frowned at you. “How do you know he didn’t get here that long ago?”

“The burger was still hot. Either you left him to bring me the burger, or he left after he gave it to you. It doesn’t take a genius to work it out,” you answered.

“No,” he said slowly. “But not many people are that observant. Not many people think like that in the first place. You just shrugged it off and asked him the question again. “He’s just talking to a nurse, he’ll be here soon.” 

“Here, here?” you asked, pointing down at your bed. 

“Yeah.”

“You gave him my room number?”

“Yeah. Is – Is that a problem?” he said hesitantly.

“No, not at all. I just wasn’t expecting you to introduce him to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a confused frown.

You put a hand over your heart and pretended as though you were tearing up with joy. “Oh, Rex. Have we just reached the next level of our relationship?” He laughed and you gave him an over-exaggerated, serious look. “Should I put you down as my emergency contact?” 

“Don’t be such a jerk,” he said with a smile.

“Don’t be such a bitch,” you retorted.

He looked at you then. Though it wasn’t the way he normally looked at you, it was more like he was just seeing you for the first time. 

“What?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. You just remind me of someone from a few years ago.” 

“If you tell me I remind you of your ex, I might actually punch you in the mouth.” 

He laughed and shook his head again. “No. You don’t remind me of anything bad. It’s refreshing, actually, being around you.” 

You didn’t respond to the remark. You weren’t really sure how to respond. No one had ever liked being around you before. You’d been so used to being on your own and looking after yourself. You’d never really had anyone who just wanted your company. Everyone always wanted something from you. They wanted you to stay silent, they wanted food, they wanted you to open up about your past, they wanted you to take medication, but they never wanted to just talk to you. Sam did though. He’d never asked you for anything, not once. Whenever you gave him something, he always payed you back some way. And whenever he showed up unexpectedly at your door, it wasn’t because he wanted to hurt you, or because he wanted to tell you to keep a secret, he just wanted to hang out. It was … well, it was refreshing.


	3. The Nightmares At The Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This picks up right where the second one left off. You finally meet Dean, and though he’s more preoccupied with helping his brother, he can’t help but notice how close you and Sam are.

You were saying something. That much Sam knew. Your lips were moving and you were smiling. You were always smiling. Travelling. That’s what you were talking about. All the places in America that you wanted to travel to. Sam tried to listen, tried to concentrate on the names of the places you wanted to travel to. But then Lucifer was there, just like he always was, running his hands up and down your arms. Threading his fingers through your hair. Smelling you. Taunting Sam with his interest.

Sam shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut tight before opening them wide again. He tried to focus on you. You were standing. Smiling. Why? Travelling. You were smiling because you wanted to travel. But why were you standing? Your clothes. You were folding them. The orderlies never did it right so you did it yourself.

Lucifer was at Sam’s ear. “Can’t get rid of me that easily. Besides, I like it here. I mean, at first I just liked tormenting you. But now you’ve brought me a hot little kitten to play with. How could you ever expect me to stay away now?”

Your hands were on Sam’s face. Your eyes were right there, drowning out Lucifer. Your voice was echoing in his head and he strained to hear it. It got louder and louder and your face got clearer and clearer until finally you were as real to him as Lucifer was.

“Hey,” you said with a smile. “I lost you there for a second.”

“Uh, sorry,” Sam replied, standing up and rolling his shoulders. You backed up when he did so, still trying to get used to his height despite the weeks that the two of you had spent together.

“Don’t worry about it. You know, the episodes don’t seem as bad as what they were when we first met. They’re further apart.”

“Of course you would be taking note,” Sam said. You glared at him as he collapsed down on your bed and threw an arm over his eyes.

“Someone needs too. You’re hell bent on self-destruction,” you accused.

A grunt was all he offered in return and you rolled your eyes as you turned back to your laundry. There was a creak by the door. You looked up. Eyes clashing with the emerald ones of a rugged man.

“You must be Dean,” you said, pressing your lips together as you eyed him carefully.

“Y/N, I’m guessing,” he replied.

“More or less.”

You folded your arms across your chest and only Sam clearing his throat managed to break the staring contest between the two of you. You moved to the side and faced Sam. He was standing now, watching you steadily. You raised your eyebrows and lifted your hands in surrender, backing away completely.

“If I’d known you had a guard dog, I would have brought a pork chop,” Dean muttered as you busied yourself with something on the other side of the room.

Sam gave his brother a distressed smile. “She’s not so bad. She just has trust issues.”

“Well she sure as hell trusts you. What are we doing in her room?”

Sam shrugged. “We relate to each other. She’s the only friend I have in here. I’m her only friend. We spend a lot of time together, so what?”

Dean’s brows shot up to his hairline and he gave his brother a disbelieving look. “So what? We’re in a psychiatric institute, Sammy. She’s a psycho.”

“I’m here, Dean. Am I a psycho too?” Dean pressed his lips together. His jaw ticked as he tried to think his way out of the hole he’d dug. “Look,” Sam continued when his brother remained silent. “She’s not … she’s not like the other’s in here. She’s like us.”

“Right,” Dean replied dryly. “Yeah, because that makes her completely sane.”

Dean stepped further into the room and Sam took up sitting on your bed again as though he’d done it a million times before.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked as you joined Sam on the bed.

Sam smiled slightly. “Maybe you should cancel my UFC fight.”

“Keep that sense of humour, Sam. It’ll get you through this.”

Sam inwardly flinched at the sound of Lucifer’s voice. He never was gone for long. Now here he was, sitting on your desk while he played with a piece of string. As if he were an old friend.

Dean tried to stifle his forlorn expression, even looked away briefly to do it. Sam saw it, he always did. He wondered if you saw it. The perceptive girl with a million demons in her eyes. One glance at you proved that you had.

“Sam, I’m gonna get you help,” Dean said firmly. You wondered who he was trying to convince.

“Now, that sounded a little cynical,” Lucifer chimed in.

Sam blew out a breath and you instinctively rubbed his back to sooth him. Dean’s eyes narrowed on the two of you and he wondered at your casual touching and Sam’s acceptance of it. Even willingness to feel it if his leaning towards you was anything to go by.

“I don’t think it’s out there, Dean,” Sam replied, turning his head away so he wouldn’t catch glimpses of Lucifer in his peripheral vision.

“What?” Dean said shortly. Sam looked back at his brother. His distressed look was deepening and you shifted closer. Dean noted the movement for later scrutiny.

“You know better than most,” he said. “It’s all snake oil. The last faith healer we hooked up with had a Reaper on a leash.”

Dean sighed as his brother spoke and paced a little towards your desk. “Yeah, Sam. I remember.”

“I just …” Sam trailed off when Dean kept his back to him.

“What?” Dean demanded as he turned back. “You just don’t want my help?”

“No, I just – don’t do this to yourself.”

You cast your eyes down to the ground, unable to bear the devotion and care that radiated from the two of them. You’d thought that Sam was like you, that he was alone like you. But that wasn’t it at all. The problem wasn’t that he had no one to care for him, it was that he had someone that cared for him too much. It was something you would kill to have. Something you’d thought Sam lacked. That’s why you’d been so drawn to him in the first place. You wanted to care for him, show him that he mattered. Then maybe one day he might do the same for you. But he already had someone, and you felt like an outsider again.

“Sam, if I don’t find something –”

“Then I’ll die.”

Your eyes snapped to him in shock and your hand spasmed around his shirt. He looked down at you then and it hit you. Tired eyes. Distressed look. Lack of energy. He wasn’t just tired of the voice, he was – “Sleep deprived,” you whispered. “That’s why you had a psychotic break. You’re sleep deprived. How are you even alive now?” Sam pressed his lips together.

“Aw, you’re breaking my heart.”

Sam placed a large hand on your thigh and squeezed it lightly when Lucifer’s voice echoed through the room again. You took up rubbing a hand along his arm and went back to listening to the brother’s.

“Dean,” Sam said softly, turning his attention back to where it had been. “We knew this was coming.”

“No,” Dean denied.

“When you …” Sam glanced at you briefly. “Did what you did, Cas warned you about all the stuff that would happen.”

Your brow wrinkled at the name. “Cas?”

“Screw Cas,” Dean snapped. Sam blew out another breath. “Quit being Dalai friggin’ Yoda about this.” You smiled slightly and Dean slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. “Get pissed.”

Sam sighed. “I’m too tired.”

Dean fell silent and the way he looked at his brother broke your heart. The hurt. The helplessness. You knew what it felt like to be only holding onto hope with a frayed rope. You knew what it felt like to have that rope snap. You stood and instinctively went to Dean, stopping yourself before you reached out to him. He didn’t know you. He wouldn’t welcome you the way Sam did. So you stepped back and dropped your gaze from his.

“You think that there is just going to be some cure out there?” Sam said. Tears welled up in Dean’s eyes and you flexed your hands. The need to comfort him was hammering at you.

“Oh, you guys are having a moment,” Lucifer said. Sam managed to ignore him, but it was difficult not to just reach out and grab your hand as he watched Dean leave in defeat. “Y/N looks like she wants to go after him. Maybe comfort him. Does that make you jealous, Sammy?”

Sam fell back on your bed and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Your body slumped in resolution. He may already have someone on the outside to take care of him. But in here? He was all alone. Lost. He still needed you. And for now that was good enough.


	4. The Nightmares Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean confronts you about the close friendship between you and Sam, leading you to tell him why you’re in the psychiatric ward in the first place.

Sam was dozing off. He was slumped down at his table in the rec room. You sat across from him, legs kicked up on the table while you chewed on a candy bar that you’d stolen from an orderly. He jumped suddenly. His eyes were wide and his breathing was heavy. It was as though he’d just been frightened by a loud noise. You didn’t react, having witnessed it a hundred times before.

“I think someone should let that voice know that you need your beauty sleep,” you said nonchalantly as you tore another piece off the candy bar with your teeth.

Sam ignored the joke, briefly thinking that having you around was like having the old Dean around. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair in a tired gesture. You tried to think of something comforting to say – anything that would at least make him smile again – but the sight of Dean by the corridor was the bell that saved you. You were about to let Sam know that his brother was there, but Dean’s shaking head gave you pause.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

You looked back at him. “Nothing. I’ve just got something to do,” you answered as you let your feet fall from the table. “Try and get some sleep.” You stood then and patted Sam’s shoulder as you passed him. He turned to watch you, wondering what you could possibly have to do, but Dean had already headed back down the corridor when you stood up, leaving Sam without answers. The thought to follow you entered his mind, but he reminded himself that you weren’t Dean. That it wasn’t his responsibility to look after you. In the end it didn’t matter if he’d convinced himself of that or not, he was just too exhausted to do anything but wait for you.

****

“We can talk in here.” You pushed open your room door and let Dean in before shutting it behind him. There was a moment where the two of you stared each other down before Dean finally spoke.

“I’m here to talk to you about Sam,” he said. The deep rasp of his voice bounced off the walls and sent a shiver down your spine.

“Aw, and here I thought we were bonding,” you replied with a smile.

Dean rolled his eyes, but his stifled smile betrayed his false contempt. “What exactly are you doing with Sam?” he asked, his boots thumping against the ground as he moved towards you. You stayed where you were despite the close proximity between the two of you.

“Are you trying to intimidate me? Because all the ‘tough guy’ looks in the world couldn’t scare me. So the next time you come to me with all your hard looks and muscle flexing, just know that I can have you on your ass in seconds,” you growled. He raised his chin in defiance. “Let me get one thing straight. I am not your enemy. I’m not a danger to you, and I’m certainly not a danger to Sam.”

“Then what? You think the two of you have some happy ending? You’re gonna just shack up together and buy a little house on the prairie?”

“What the hell is your problem?” you snapped.

“You’re my problem.”

Your head snapped back in shock. “You know nothing about me. You think that because I’m in here I’m some sort of delusional head-case?” you said softly. Your throat was thick with tears and you swallowed as you tried to force your emotions back.

Dean shrugged. “Something like that.”

You stepped forward suddenly. “You wanna know why I’m in here?” you growled as a tear finally rolled down your cheek. Clenching teeth was all that you got in response so you continued. “My father molested me throughout my entire childhood,” you spat. “Every night he’d crawl into my bed instead of my mother’s. She didn’t care. As long as she got to spend all of his money she couldn’t care less what he was doing in the next room. I tried to tell people, but no one paid attention. After he died I started talking again. And people finally started to listen. She couldn’t go to jail so she spent months pumping me full of drugs before cutting my wrists and dumping me here. My confession won’t hold up anywhere let alone a court if I’m nothing but a delusional head-case.”

Dean swallowed thickly and looked away in shame. His hands found their way into his pockets and he stepped back away from you. “I’m sorry,” he said.

You clenched your teeth and put more distance between the two of you, the realisation of what you’d just done hitting you. “I’ve never told anyone that before,” you whispered, not counting the one man who you were sure was only a figment of your imagination.

Dean’s brow furrowed in distress as he watched you fight back more tears. “Look, I just …” He rubbed a hand over his mouth and tried to search for the right words. “Sammy’s happy. He hasn’t been happy in a long time. Neither of us have. I just needed to make sure –”

“That he wasn’t losing his mind?” you cut in. Dean’s mouth snapped shut and a look of shame filled his face again. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I don’t mean to punish you. And I don’t blame you.”

Dean frowned slightly as he watched you. He watched the way you pulled yourself together, the way you gave him a reassuring smile. You reminded him of someone. At first he wasn’t sure who, but the youthful twinkle in your eyes had him reminiscing the early years of his hunts with Sam. When he hadn’t been tortured in hell and his brother still smiled. He knew then, he knew you reminded him of Sam. A younger, happier Sam.

“How is he?” Dean blurted out.

You smiled and moved towards him. “He’s fine, Dean. He’s a lot better than what he was.”

Dean nodded and said nothing more as he headed to the door. He turned back before he left. He wanted to thank you, but doing so would imply trust and Dean couldn’t afford to trust anyone right now. So he just left


	5. The Nightmares Ahead Of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place towards the end of the Born Again Identity s7 ep17. It’s the scenes from Sam going through electroshock right through to the end of the episode with you included in it basically.

“Why are you in here?”

His voice was quiet. He wasn’t a very loud man. He rarely needed to be. His stature was imposing, on the other hand. An almost eerie contrast to his quiet tones and soft eyes. You were about eighty percent sure that he projected himself that way on purpose. The other twenty percent was a nagging feeling that he was just tired. He seemed like the cheerful kind. It was easy to make him smile, and he was quick with a joke when his guard was down. But his smile never lasted for more than a second, and his guard was almost always up. 

Sometimes he had help from his dog. And, of course, by dog you mean Dean. It seemed as though Sam’s brother was the jealous sort, although he seemed surprised by it. Like he wasn’t used to feeling threatened by a strange girl. Like he was used to getting what he wanted just by raising his hackles. Your last encounter with him supported that assumption. Then he softened like butter the moment you spilled your sob story. Your thoughts drifted back to Sam’s question.

“I told you already.”

Of course, you hadn’t. Not really. You’d given him the watered down, easy to swallow version. You’d hoped that would have curbed his appetite, but he was persistent. He gave you long, puppy dog looks until you had to leave the room just to stop from spilling your guts to him. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought, maybe he wouldn’t apologise for the actions of another man. Maybe he wouldn’t hesitate when he touched you again. It was all cheap wishes of course. He would pity you when you tell him how your mother left you because she couldn’t stand the sight of you. He would apologise when you tell him about how your father used to abuse you. He would hesitate every time he reached for you when you tell him that it was sexual abuse. Even stone cold Dean managed to do two out of three.

“A mother wouldn’t just dump her daughter in an institution like that,” he demanded.

You laughed. It was more spiteful than you had intended, but Sam didn’t seem to notice.

“Obviously we grew up with very different mothers.”

“I didn’t have a mother growing up.”

You looked at him then. Sprawled out on your bed like he always was. He seemed almost indignant.

“No need to get defensive, hot shot.”

“Sorry,” he said shamefully. 

“Look, my mother was a bitch. That’s all you need, and that’s all you’re getting.” 

“But-” 

“Winchester. Lights out. Get back to your room.”

The two of you watched as the door swung closed behind the orderly neither of you had seen come in. 

****

It took you a few disoriented seconds to figure out what had woken you up, but the minute you registered the sound of rusty wheels on linoleum, you were out of bed and at your door in seconds. You ducked under the window just as Sam’s bed rolled past your room, and held your breath as you slowly creaked your door open. You jogged down the hall just as the orderly disappeared around the corner with him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that there was something wrong, although you had been known to have freakishly accurate instincts. Whilst others may have seen an overdosed Sam being taken to the opposite wing for detox, you just saw something very wrong. You didn’t know what was going to happen, you didn’t even know how or why. You just knew that something was going down, and you had to be there.

Your fears were proven yet again when you peeked through the windows of the doors Sam had just been pushed through a few minutes before. Sam was awake now, and the orderly, Marcus, was shoving something into Sam’s mouth a he told him to bite down. Sam pulled at his restraints in confusion and watched as Marcus started turning dials on the machine sitting next to his bed.

“Ordinarily, they keep this thing set on low. But I was thinking we could experiment a little. What do you say, Sam?” Marcus said as he slipped the electrodes onto Sam’s head.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath. You were no stranger to electroshock therapy. It hurt like a bitch just sitting on low. You spat out a rain of expletives when you next realised that Marcus was possessed. You were no stranger to demons either.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You slid down to the ground and raked your fingers through your hair as you tried to block out Sam’s muffled grunts of pain. It would be so easy for you to just walk away right now. You could just leave him there for the demon to take care of. You had no idea what kind of trouble Sam had gotten himself into to warrant this kind of attention from demons, but it was nothing that you had to get mixed up in. You didn’t owe Sam anything. But you did owe the demons a whole hell of a lot. You knew what they were capable of. And even though one of them helped you out and spared your life on a whim, you doubted they would look kindly on you for screwing with one of their jobs. 

“Just walk away, Y/N. You owe Sam nothing. Don’t get mixed up in his shit.” You took in a lungful of air, stood up and took a step forward, completely willing to turn your back on your friend. Sam grunted and groaned again and you were through the doors in an instant, pulling out the vial of holy water that you carried around with you everywhere. You had always been worried that they would come back for you at some stage, and you didn’t think they would be so nice the next time around.

Just as Marcus turned to crank up the dials one last time, you splashed the contents of the vial into his eyes. His hands flew up to his sizzling face as he shrieked. Bile rose up in your throat as you caught a whiff of burning flesh but you pushed it back down easily enough. Before you had time to run to Sam, Marcus’s eyes went from red and burnt to golden. His mouth did the same thing. Although it was more like there was a golden light coming through his eyes and mouth. You had a second to think that the holy water had more punch than you expected before you had to turn your eyes away from the bright light. It died down a moment later and you turned back to see the one person you thought you’d never see again.

“Cassie?” you exclaimed.

Castiel’s eyes widened minutely as he recognised who you were. His attention was hijacked a moment later as Sam groaned and rolled his head to the side.

“I should never have broken your wall, Sam. I’m here to make it right,” Castiel said as he removed the mouth guard and electrodes from Sam’s head. He touched his fingers to his head next and your mind flashed back to a time when you had those same fingers pressed to your head.

Sam didn’t look any better when Castiel was done. He couldn’t even hold up his head properly. And by the way he was looking at Castiel, you were sure that he wasn’t really seeing him.

“You’re not real,” Sam whispered. And even your grip on his hand didn’t snap him out of the reverie.

Castiel bowed his head, a lost look falling across his face. “Oh, Sam … I’m so sorry.”

“Cassie,” you ground out between clenched teeth, “What the hell is going on?”

****

You were leaning up against the wall in Sam’s bedroom. His eyes were focused on the chair next to his bed. Lucifer was sitting there, the Three Little Pigs book in his hand. “I see that third little pig was smart. Went out and got some bricks,” he said.

You chew on your nails anxiously and bounce your foot on the ground as Sam look around aimlessly. Dean and Castiel are standing just inside the door. Dean had eyes only for his brother, but Castiel’s attention kept jumping back to you.

“What the hell do you mean you can’t?” Dean demanded.

Castiel dragged his eyes away from you and replied, “I mean there’s nothing left to rebuild.”

Dean crossed his arms and turned towards the angel. “Why not?”

“Because it crumbled. The pieces got crushed to dust by whatever’s happening inside his head right now.”

You pressed your lips together and pushed off the wall. Dean and Castiel both watched as you slumped into the chair beside Sam and took a hold of his hand. His head turned to you, much to their surprise, and he seemed to recognise you for a moment, or at least felt familiar with your touch. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem to freak out when you came near him the way he did with Dean and Castiel.

“So you’re saying there’s nothing? That he’s gonna be like this until his candle blows out?” Dean asked.

“He’s not staying like this,” you said quietly. “He’s gonna be fixed, okay? He has to be. He owes me a burger for that stunt I pulled.” Your foot started bouncing on the ground again. Dean’s jaw ticked as he considered you.  And Castiel dropped his eyes to the ground in shame.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “This isn’t a problem I can make disappear. And you know that.” The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Sam. You wondered for a moment if he would have been better off had you just left him with that demon like you’d meant to. Would he be dead? Free from whatever hell he was in now. Or did you make it just in time? Could he have become a drooling, mumbling mess if you’d left him. You doubted it. Those were just thoughts you were trying to use for comfort. You knew very well that Marcus was trying to kill him. Sure, you didn’t break the wall in his head. You didn’t cause any of the things he suffered in hell, as Dean so graciously filled you in on. But you did take away his chance at peace. At least, you hope he would have had some peace. Surely some one up top had to stop sending the Winchesters to hell and just let them be for once.

“But I may be able to shift it.”

Your head shot up at the comment. “Shift?” you asked Castiel. 

“Yeah, it would get Sam back on his feet,” he replied. A look of determination blanketed his face as he stormed towards the bed. Sam sat up half way and shifted away from castiel as far as he could in fear.

“Shhh,” you soothed as you sat on the other side of the bed and rubbed a hand up and down his arm.

“It’s better this way,” Castiel told Dean, then he turned to you, “I’ll be fine.”

Sam flinched as Castiel leaned over him. “Wait, Cassie, what are you doing?” you asked a little franticly.

“Now, Sam, this may hurt. And if I can’t tell you again, I’m sorry I ever did this to you.”

Before either you or Dean could protest, Castiel pressed his palm against Sam’s head. Sam groaned in pain and his head bowed back into the pillow. His eyes and face began glowing red before it travelled up through Castiel’s arm and into his face and eyes. Once it left Sam he began groaning and gasping for breath.

“Sam?” you said, as you stood up over him.

“Y/N!” He sat up on the bed as Dean came around to your side of the bed calling his brother’s name.

“Cas? Cas, is that you?” Sam asked.

Castiel jumped from the bed and reeled back against the wall in horror as he stared at the younger Winchester. The three of you watched him in confusion, none of you seeing Lucifer sitting in Sam’s place laughing at Castiel.

****

“I don’t know. I mean, we can’t just leave him,” you said as you jogged to keep up with the boys long strides.

“You don’t get to dictate what I can and can’t do,” Dean snapped as he stopped in his tracks ad turned to you. “How the hell do you even know him anyway? How did you know to throw holy water? Who the hell are you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him as Sam stepped forward in an attempt to stick up for you. “It’s fine, Sam. I’m a friend.”

Dean scoffed. “We don’t have friends.”

“Dean, stop. Look, Y/N’s right. We can’t just leave Cas here.”

Dean looked from Sam to you and back again before rolling his eyes and heading back towards the Impala. “Well, we can’t bring him with us. Everything on the planet’s out for us, okay? Word gets out, we can’t protect him. Not really.”

“This is safer,” you stated in reluctant agreement. You stopped at the passenger side of the Impala and looked at Dean over the roof of the car. Sam gently nudged you down to the back door, an amused glint in his eye as you shot him a glare.

“Exactly,” Dean said. “Every demon who knows about Cas is dead.”

Sam chipped in his doubts, “Not everyone. Look, Dean, this whole ‘enemy of my enemy is my friend’ thing feels kind of like a demon deal.”

“It’s not a deal. It’s – ”

“It’s what?”

Dean paused for a moment to consider his answer before saying, “Mutually assured destruction.” Sam gave him a doubtful look. “Look, man, I get it. She’s not our friend. We don’t even have friends,” he looked pointedly at you then, “All our friends are dead.”

Dean slid into the driver’s seat and Sam gave you an apologetic look. “Save it, Sam,” you snapped, “I don’t wanna hear a whole load of bullshit about how he’s not always like this. He’s just having a rough day. Well screw you, we’re all having rough days.”

You slid into the backseat with a huff and shot Dean a dirty look through the rear view mirror. He matched it with equal snark and put the car into gear. And so began your journey back into the hell hole you had spent a year dragging yourself out of.


	6. The Ghost Of Our Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s your first hunt with the Winchesters, and you all meet up with another hunter named Garth to take down a Shojo. Along the way you and Sam have an honest conversation about your mutual attraction and odd things begin happening, making the boys question whether or not Bobby is actually dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is set in season 7 episode 18 which is called Party On, Garth. That episode is a filler. Please, please leave a comment down below and tell me whether or not you want me to continue writing parts set in filler episodes, or if you want me to just jump between the main episodes that follow the story line of the season. And I know, this is super long, which is why I asked about the filler episodes, cause the next parts are gonna be pretty long because they’re following the actual Supernatural episodes now. Thanks! I look forward to hearing from you :)

It was dark and you were tired. The soft rumble of the Impala and the musky leather seat was enough to send you off to sleep but the streetlights on the side of the road kept piercing your eyes every time Sam drove past one. Not to mention Dean’s gruff, growling voice, which you normally didn’t mind listening too – not that you’d ever tell him that – was getting on your nerves. Mostly because of the way he was bitching to Meg on the phone. You happened to like the demon, and you certainly didn’t appreciate his shitty attitude towards her.

So rather than catching up on your much needed beauty sleep, your arms were slung over the front seat of the Impala while you rested your head in between the boys, bumping it against their shoulders every now and again when you began nodding off. You couldn’t remember how long you’d been on the road with them for, but it was long enough for Dean to settle on a grudging acceptance of your presence, and for both he and Sam to work out that you knew a little more about what went bump in the night than they had originally thought you did.

It was a conversation that always brought a smile to your face. Dean quizzing you on the monsters of the world, smugly believing that there was no way you would get the next question right, or the next one, or the next one. Meanwhile Sam had sat back with an amused, and almost impressed, look, laughing every time you proved to Dean that you could handle yourself when it came to the lore.

“All right, well, call us if he wakes up or, you know, anything.” Dean’s voice pulled you out of the sleep that you came so close to achieving once again. Sam let out a soft chuckle at your less than graceful awakening. You elbowed him lightly but quickly turned your attention back to Dean. “Yeah, fine. Thanks for your help Meg.” He hung up in a huff, calling Meg a bitch as his lips tightened in irritation. The two of you had had many a conversation over the derogatory names and you were too tired to start another one so you let it slide.

“So, Cassie is the same then?” you said instead.

“I still can’t believe he lets you call him that,” he grumbled. “But yeah, down to the drool. By the way” – he turned to Sammy – “how is your custard?”

Sam’s light shrug jostled your head as you laid it back down. “It’s all right. It’s getting better. Just wish it wasn’t like the damn tape from The Ring. I mean, I feel like I’m okay ‘cause I passed on the crazy.”

“No, you didn’t,” Dean argued. “You heard what Cas said.”

“Guys, please don’t,” you said softly as his voice began to rise slightly. You couldn’t stand when the two of them argued. You’d been jealous of Sam back in the institute because it seemed as though he had someone that loved him unconditionally – which was something that you had never had the privilege of experiencing. And he did. Dean would do anything for him. But they fought like cats and dogs, and you just couldn’t understand why two people that loved each other so much would want to spend the precious time they had together fighting over everything.

You were sure that Dean was going to turn his frustration on to you, but luckily his phone rang, saving both you and Sam from the fight that had been brewing underneath his skin. Surprisingly, Sam rolled his eyes and shot Dean a dirty look when he answered the phone. He must have been brewing for a fight as well. You hadn’t noticed. As Dean began chatting away to some guy named Garth, you eyed Sammy and wondered whether or not everything that went down in the institute had left him a little more jaded than you’d thought.

****

You ran shaking fingers through you hair and tugged anxiously at the bottom of the ridiculous jacket you had on that matched your pantsuit. It certainly wasn’t anything you normally wore, or even owned but the brother’s insisted that you had to look the part of an FBI agent. You mentioned that a lot of FBI guys went plain clothed but then Dean made a quip about how you weren’t Monica Reyes and you could suffer with the rest of them. Then you left a nasty bruise on his arm which started an argument, which made you forget about the clothes and now, well, here you were, shifting uncomfortably in an itchy as hell thrift shop suit while you silently freaked out about playing a convincing FBI agent. Needless to say, the day was not starting out well for you.

Sammy’s large hand was tucked against the small of your back underneath the suit jacket, and his breath tickled against your ear as he whispered reassurances while the three of you followed the coroner into the morgue.

“Well, this is it,” he said. “Agents … this is Corporal Brown.”

You looked to the man in question and had to stifle a shocked expression. He was a lanky, gawky, skinny-as-hell white man – though he looked about nineteen – that definitely didn’t look like any Corporal you’d seen. Not that you’d seen any, but you were guessing they didn’t look like him. Although, he was fully suited up in army wear, so you guessed he must be. He was standing next to a body laid out on the slab in the middle of the room. It was covered in a blood stained sheet so you couldn’t exactly see what the wounds were, but you could take a pretty good guess based on what Dean had told you and Sam. 

“Corporal James Brown,” the army guy stated matter-of-factly. “I’m shipping off to the AF manana. I’m here to pay respects to my cousin as I will not be able to attend the funeral.”

“That must be terrible for your family. Losing two brothers so fast,” the coroner said.

At that, Corporal Brown seemed to freeze up for a moment, his eyes flicking to the brother’s on either side of you. It was imperceptible enough that the coroner didn’t pick up on it, but the three of you didn’t miss it. With a frown you glanced at Dean and Sam for answers, neither of them paid you any attention, instead they traded nervous glances with each other and Corporal Brown. It suddenly dawned on you that Corporal Brown wasn’t in fact Corporal Brown. He must have been Garth. Dean’s contact.

You pressed a hand over your mouth and coughed to cover up your laughter. Apparently not well enough because the coroner gave you an odd look while Dean elbowed you in the ribs and Sam said that you were just getting over the flu.

Garth quickly drew attention back to him saying, “Yeah. Yeah. My aunt – she’s, uh … she’s real broken up about it.”

Apparently Garth wasn’t doing a good enough job of reconciling the situation because Sam cut in next. “Hey, Doc, can we see both files please?”

The coroner mumbled an affirmative and handed Sam the files as his phone rings. “Ah. My wife. I’ll, uh, be in my office.” You all nod and smile politely before rounding on Garth once the coroner left the room.

“You didn’t say they were brothers,” Sam scolded.

“Dude, I just found out about the other corpse, and … started moving quick. I’m sucking up info as I go,” he whispered. His tough-as-nails, army guy act dropping quickly under the disapproving glare of the brothers.

You were frowning at him too, though for a completely different reason. “What, are you allergic to a suit?” you said.

Garth ran his hands over the uniform as he looked down at himself. “No. I just … look good in a uniform. I’m Garth, by the way.”

“I gathered. Y/N.”

Sam looked up from the file he was reading. “Yep. Same cause of death.”

Dean sighed and you headed over to the nearby computer that had been left open, Sam trailed close behind and Garth stated out loud what you all already knew.

“Right, uh, gutted at night in the woods, where legend says that the ghost of Jenny Greentree roams.” The familiar whiz and beep of an EMF meter sounded through the room and Garth hurried to explain that he’d already scanned the body, only to stop short when Dean’s went off. “I guess mine must be broken again,” he said lamely.

“All right. I’m reading your mail. Uh, ghost of Jenny … whatever?” Dean said.

“Greentree,” Garth replied. “That’s just it. I torched her bones.”

Your attention turned to the keyboard under your fingertips as Dean lifted the sheet off the body and started talking about whatever else Jenny might be attached to. Sam was leaning over the top of you, hand on the back of your chair and his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as you typed in ‘Junction City, Ray, Trevor McAnn’. Once a list of results popped up Sam leaned closer and pointed out a webpage which you promptly clicked on. It was a home page for a Midwestern Brewing Company. You jumped out of the seat as though you had been burned without even looking at whatever else was on the page. Sam had been steadily leaning closer, his body pressing against your back and you just couldn’t take the heat anymore. And by heat you meant the ridiculous reaction that your body seemed to be having towards Sam lately.

Neither Garth nor Dean seen it, but Sam watched you with confusion as you hurriedly made you way over to Dean’s side. Garth said something about the girl not having any belongings because she’d been homeless and that the bodies seemed more monster chow than evil spirit, but you were too busy making a face at the corpse with a hole in it’s chest to really listen to what he said.

“Werewolf?” Dean suggested.

You felt your face start to heat up as you noticed Sam glancing up to study you every few seconds. You forced yourself to concentrate on what Garth was saying; even moving closer to Dean, hoping his presence would shake you back into focus. He looked down at you when you did it but didn’t make a move to shift away, in fact, he subtly let his arm brush against yours.

“… witness said that whatever was chasing victim numero uno was invisible.”

You breathed out a chuckle and bumped your shoulder against Dean as you looked up at him. “Invisible ghost werewolf?” He laughed along with you and even offered a high five; it was a rare moment where the two of you bonded over the mutual love of childish humour.

“Why’d you think I called for backup?” Garth said, seemingly not getting the joke.

“Hey,” Sam piped up. “Any of you ever heard of Thighslapper Ale?”

You thought for a moment and then asked, “Is that a stripper or a beverage?” It earned you a few amused looks before Dean explained that it was a ‘beverage for douchebags’.

Sam shrugged and looked back down at the computer screen. “Uh, number one microbrew in the Pacific Northwest.”

“But we’re in Kansas,” Garth said in confusion.

“Yeah, I rest my case,” Dean replied. “What’s your point?”

Sam’s lips curled up at the corners in a smirk that had you biting your lip in response. “The owner is the dad to the dead brothers.”

Garth took on a determined look that had you taking half a step back. “Right. I’ll can the uniform, go Fed. See you at the brewery in 40.”

You gave Dean a bewildered look once the guy had left and he simply shrugged with a forced smile and said, “He grows on you.”

****

A woman with brown hair and a solemn look opened the door to the brewery to let you, Sam, Dean and Garth in. “Agents,” she said. “I’m Marie. I’m a manager.”

“Thanks for coming in on a Sunday,” you said with a friendly smile. She certainly looked like she needed the pick-me-up.

“We want to help. Anything we can do,” she replied.

As she led the four of you through the brewery, Sam gave you a light shove to push you forward and you shot him a look. He gestured to the woman and you realised that he wanted you to take the lead. You gave him wide eyes, and when that didn’t work you turned your pleading expression to Dean, hoping that surely he wouldn’t allow this. He just shrugged with a ‘what can you do’ look on his face. Though underneath he was probably thinking, ‘you screw this up and I’ll kill you’.

You cleared your throat and swallowed thickly before speaking; thankful that your voice came out steady. “So, all this is your dad’s huh?” You wondered briefly how hard it must be for her to have lost two brothers; she seemed to be keeping it together pretty well.

She turned as the five of you entered a reception area and said, “And his friend – Randy Baxter. They own the place together now.”

“Now?”

“Well, since Dale died.”

The conversation ended as a commotion caught the attention of your little group. There was an old, grey haired man with a rounded middle ripping into a young boy in an unkempt uniform just inside the door of an office. Marie leaned into you and whispered, “The, uh, ‘charming’ Randy Baxter.” You nodded and continued to watch on as – Randy, you assumed – told the boy he was on the graveyard shift and that he would be fired if he was one second late. “He’s actually a really nice guy. It’s just not easy being the axman,” Marie defended.

“So true,” Dean stated matter-of-factly.

“My comrades got you covered, so if you’ll excuse me,” you said quickly, heading in the direction of Randy. You enjoyed talking to difficult people; it was your way of blowing off steam when you took them down a notch. You supposed it was much like how Dean and Sam blew off steam when they fought.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll go with you,” Sam said. You froze up for a second, but recovered quick enough that you were sure none of them noticed.

Unfortunately you didn’t get your wish of butting heads because as soon as you entered the office Sam turned his attention to Mr McAnn. A man that didn’t look all that different from Mr Baxter.

“Mr McAnn? We’ll be brief. I promise.”

After Sam gave you a glance you quickly folded your hands in front of you and took the lead again in as professional a manner as you could manage. “Mr McAnn, is there any reason to believe your sons may have had enemies?”

He shrugged and gave you a confused frown. “We were told they were animal attacks.”

You felt your heart jump in panic for a moment but luckily Sam chose to answer that question, obviously knowing that you weren’t quite up to date on the go to responses for statements like that. “We just need to explore every possibility.”

“They got lots of friends. No,” Mr McAnn stated firmly.

“Well, do they work here with you? Like Marie does. Could someone have been jealous?” Sam asked.

He began saying that Marie was the only one, but then his hand went to his face and he seemed pale as he began stuttering over his words.

“Jim. It’s okay,” Randy said. He turned to you and Sam and said that he would continue answering your questions. And you had to admit, you were a little disappointed that he wasn’t playing the grumpy old guy that he had been before.

“Of course,” Sam said with a sympathetic smile as he allowed Mr McAnn to leave the office.

You and Sam moved to sit in the seats in front of the desk and listened to Randy sing praise about the two boys that had been murdered. He mentioned that he was their godfather and I piped up, asking if he had any rugrats of his own.

“Just Jim’s,” he answered. “They’d borrow my car, raid my fridge.”

You wondered what that felt like. To have a family like that, a place where you could go to feel at home and loved, like you belonged. You snapped out of it quickly when Sam began asking Randy about a third partner of the company – Dale – who’d passed away a few months ago.

“Did he pass away in the woods? Like Ray and Trevor?” you asked.

Randy sighed and moved behind the desk to sit in his own chair. “He took his own life.” You stomach seemed to drop at the mention of that, sending your mind back to your own attempts at ending it all. Sam seemed to notice the shift in your demeanour and he went to raise his hand to comfort you but thought better of it. You were trying to hide your reaction from Randy, it wouldn’t do good to have Sam comfort you after the mention of suicide.

“He had problems for a long time,” Randy continued, oblivious to the emotional battle going on in font of him. “Look, this is just a nightmare. First Dale, now this? This was gonna be our big year. We’re selling Thighslapper to one of the largest distributors in the US. It’s been in the works for months. News is gonna hit the public pretty soon.”

“Well, that’s the brass ring, huh?” you said a little distractedly as you noticed Sam eyeing off a wooden box sitting on the shelf behind Randy. It looked old and mouldy but it was still pretty well put together. It had Japanese characters scrawled along the front of it and it had been set next to a tray of drinks.

“Given other circumstances, yeah, we’d be celebrating right now,” Randy said, drawing your attention back to him. You gave him a sympathetic smile and shared a look with Sam. You’d both noticed the weird box, and you had a feeling that it had something to do with what was going on.

****

Garth was sitting at the kitchen counter hopelessly tinkering with his EMF reader while Sam sat at the dining table doing research on his laptop. Meanwhile Dean was lounging back on the couch with you curled up next to him – practically on top of him – trying to read the journal that the two of you had been fighting over for the past five minutes before settling in the position that you were in.

“There’s a million things with claws that go bump in the night,” Dean said in slight frustration as he scratched at his head. “Throw in ‘invisible’ and the number goes down.”

You rubbed your eyes tiredly and sighed, already finding the research to be tedious. You noticed the motel card sitting on the side table next to the couch and you leaned over Dean – who grunted – to grab it.

“Afternoon Delights? Really, Garth? Don’t you think this place is a little, uh … “ You waved a hand in the air and looked around as you searched for the word that could sum up this back wash, pay by the hour, hooker-ish motel. Hell, there was even a hot tub in the corner.

“Uh, you want a nice hot tub after a day at the office. It’s the little things,” Garth replied with a grunt as he tried to twist something inside the EMF circuit. You shared an amused look with Sam and Garth continued on with a different topic. “I feel sad for those brewery dudes. Spend your life beautifying the world through beer. First a partner offs himself. Now two kids get ganked by an unknown freakadeek.”

Dean rolled his eyes and took a swig out of the old flask that sat next to him on the side table. You shot him a glare that he didn’t see, not impressed with his dismissal of Garth’s compassion. It was tough to find an experienced Hunter who wasn’t so jaded and had so little compassion. After being surrounded by those kinds of people for most of your life, you found Garth’s outlook very refreshing.

Suddenly Sam spoke up and gestured towards his laptop. “According to this, Dale wasn’t just a partner. He was also the brewmaster.”

“Brewmaster?” you scoffed, sharing a disbelieving look with Dean.

Sam smiled and said, “He was widely considered a genius.”

“All right, that’s it,” you said as you rolled your eyes and used Dean as leverage to push yourself to your feet. He gave another undignified grunt and shot you a glare that you responded too by yanking his flask out of his hand and setting it down on the counter by Garth. His EMF meter went off again but you paid it no mind as Garth started hitting it with the palm of his hand. “No microbrew is worth, what was it – eight Food Magazine awards?” You yanked the fridge door open and pulled out four bottles of beer. “Beer’s not food. It’s … whatever water is.”

You placed a bottle down on the counter in front of Garth, ignoring the weird look he gave you, figuring he was just in a weird Garth mood. Then you gave a bottle to Sam and Dean before inspecting the label of your own. “Hm,” you scoffed. “Thighslapper.” Your doubt was quickly washed away as you twisted the top off and took a swig. “Wow, that’s actually awesome. Damn it, I’m not even mad anymore.”

Sam and Dean chuckled at you but Garth paid you no mind, instead focusing on downing the entire contents of his bottle, even going as far as to shake the last drops into his mouth, before letting out a loud belch.

“Wow,” Dean commented with a smile. “Party on, Garth.”

“I don’t even usually drink beer,” Garth said. “It messes with my depth perception.” He let out another loud belch followed by a hiccup. “Especially when I skinny dip.” You looked over at Sam to give him an amused glance, only to find that he was already looking at you with a small smile curling the corners of his mouth up. Before you had a chance to think too much into it, Garth asked if you guys wanted to hear a joke.

Sam shook his head and tried to steer the conversation back to the job but Garth began to laugh uncontrollably. Sam asked in disbelief if he was drunk.

“Dude, I just” – he covered his mouth and hiccupped again – “drank a whole beer. Of course I’m drunk.”

Sam gave Dean a disapproving look as though it were somehow his fault. Dean shrugged it off and said, “There was something interesting about the job?”

“Right. Uh … “

“Hey, can I have some more Thighslapper?” Garth interrupted.

“No,” you all said at the same time.

“Coffee for you, Tara Reid,” you said.

“Coffee with kalhua in it?” he asked with a smile. Dean closed his eyes and sighed in resignation while Sam just ignored the entire conversation and continued talking about the job.

“So, it says that Dale actually left the company two weeks before he died. Or … maybe he got pushed out ‘cause he didn’t want to sell. I mean, Baxter said the deal’s been in the works for months.”

“That would explain the widow,” you suggested as Dean came to stand beside you in front of the dining table. “She’s suing. Maybe Dale had a bone to pick, and he’s still picking it.”

Sam’s eyes furrowed as he considered your theory and Garth chipped in – not sounding as ridiculously drunk as he had before. “Right. So, maybe he’s a spiritual malo.”

Suddenly the police radio came to life, the voice on it asking for a unit to go to McAnn’s residence at 698 Washburn.

“McAnn residence. As in Jim McAnn?” Sam said.

Garth said, “As in, let’s hope for their sake our spirito ain’t made it out of the woods.” He slammed his hands down on the counter and pushed himself – rather unsteadily – to his feet. “All right. Let’s go check it.”

“Uh, you two go. Me and Y/N are gonna go visit the widow,” Sam said quickly. You released a sigh of relief. As much as you were worried about being around Sam on your own, you’d risk it before even trying to deal with a drunk Garth while working a case.

***

“So, what’s with you lately?” Sam asked as the two of you walked across the street to the house that Dale’s widow lived in.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied.

“Don’t pull that Dean crap with me,” he said roughly, earning a look from you. He softened his voice and put a hand on your shoulder to stop you at the driveway. “Look. I don’t know how long you’re gonna be tagging along with me and Dean. And, I know Dean has issues with it, but I hope that you’ll be around for a while.” He paused for a moment and looked at you, you weren’t sure what kind of answer he was looking for but you nodded anyway to coax him to go on. “What I’m getting at is, if that’s the case, then I need some honesty with us, Y/N. You’re a lot like Dean, and I’ll admit you’re even a lot like me. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but … I just don’t want to have to deal with the secrets and dishonesty that I get from Dean, with you.”

You nodded again and scratched at the back of your neck. “I get it. You want honesty. You don’t want me keeping things from you the way you and Dean keep things from each other. But it’s a two way street, you know?”

“Of course. And I’m prepared for that,” Sam said softly. He took a step towards you then and you fought not to step back when his scent washed over you. “So when I ask you if everything’s okay … I wanna know if something is going on with you. No matter how trivial.”

You took a deep breathe, held it for a few seconds and then let it whoosh out. You wanted people you could trust, you wanted friends, a family, this conversation was that make or break moment when you decided if Sam was gonna be the start of that new life. “Okay,” you said slowly. “I’m attracted to you.” You glanced up at him to make sure he was still on board with the whole honesty thing. When he just stood there watching you expectantly you continued. “And I’ve been acting really weird because I think it’s a bad idea to develop those kinds of feelings for you. I’ve been trying to distance myself, I guess.”

Sam nodded and looked around at the darkened neighbourhood, he seemed to be trying to gather his thoughts together. “Okay. Good. Good. This is good. Well, I mean, I’m definitely attracted to you too.” He chuckled a little nervously at that and scratched the back of his neck as he looked down at his shoes. “And you might be right. It’s probably a bad idea to let it go any further, but, honestly, I don’t think we have any control over that. I think we should just let things fall where they may. I don’t like it when you try and distance yourself from me. I mean, you’re my friend, Y/N. I’d hate to lose you just because we’re attracted to one another. It might not even lead to anything.”

You licked your lips and realised that he was probably right. You were worrying over something that hadn’t even happened yet. Something that might never happen. “So we’re good?” Sam asked.

You smiled up at him and gave him a light, friendly punch in the arm. “Yeah, we’re good, Rex.” His chuckle followed you all the way up to the front door.

****

You and Sam ended up meeting Dean and Garth back at the brewery after you called Dean to tell him about the bottle of sake that Dale had apparently sent Randy and Mr McAnn after they sold the company out from under him. Turns out that was what had been in the box that had caught your and Sam’s attention when the two of you had talked with Mr McAnn.

You, Dean and Sam broke in through the front door while Garth stayed in the car and stalked into Mr McAnn’s office with flashlights held high. “Here it is,” Sam said as he picked up the old box and set it on the desk to open it. Inside was another, smaller box. This one was black and shiny and decorated with a face and more Japanese characters. The bottle of sake was inside of it, and you noticed that the red seal was broken.

“Looks like someone’s been sampling the goods,” you muttered. Sam shook it, proving your theory when it sounded as though there was less than half the bottle left.

“You don’t say,” Dean replied distractedly, then he let out a laugh of triumph and pointed at the camera in the back corner of the room. “Check it out. God, I love paranoid people.” Dean turned to you and gestured at the computer. “See if you can get on.”

“Okay, uh …” You switched on the monitor, took a seat and quickly skimmed over the desktop before finding the program you were looking for. “Got it,” you said as you waved at the camera. “All right, so, first death was what, uh, four months ago? Yeah?”

Dean leant over you, much like Sam had when you were at the morgue. You felt the same shiver when his breath brushed against your neck, but he didn’t feel as hot as Sam had. His voice rumbled in your ear and you had to stop yourself from biting your lip and rubbing your thighs together. You didn’t know what the hell your problem was, but you had a feeling that hanging around with Sam and Dean was sending your libido into over drive.

“Y/N!” Dean snapped. You jumped and mumbled an apology before asking him to repeat himself. “Trevor McAnn. Patient Zero.”

“Right, okay, so what did he let out of that bottle?” You fast forwarded through the old footage a few hours before finally stopping at the moment when Trevor entered the office to take a drink out of the sake.

“Nothing there,” Sam said.

“That we can see,” Dean said.

Before either you or Sam registered what he meant by that, Dean slammed a couple of glasses and a bottle of whiskey down in front of you, saying something about the possibility of only being able to see the monster when you were drunk. Apparently he and Garth had had a brainstorming session while they were on their way to the brewery. You smiled, “Niiiice.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam said at the same time.

“Tick-tock.” Dean waved a finger at him and you all began to start downing shots of whiskey. One after the other.

“Can you even get drunk anymore?” Sam asked Dean. He was leaning against the desk and you had your feet kicked up on it, humming in a state of contented happiness. “It’s kind of like, uh, drinking a vitamin for you, right?”

“Shut up,” Dean growled. You and Sam shared a smile at the tease. You vaguely heard Dean cuss under his breath before drinking from a bottle and spluttering. He poured himself a shot of whatever it was and you figured he’d finally found something that would get him drunk.

Another half hour passed and you were all well and truly drunk. “All right. Party time,” you said. You gestured for Sam to take over the controls. They were blurring and you kept seeing two ‘enter’ keys, so it was safe to say that you weren’t in a state to operate any kind of machinery. Big or otherwise. “Rewind and go.”

Sam replayed the footage of Trevor, except this time you could all see a long haired woman dressed all in white standing behind the desk in the office. “So, he – he let that thing out of the box, and it must have just followed him to the place with all the thingies,” you slurred, leaning forward and squinting your eyes to try and get a better look.

“Yes. Yes,” Dean said as he looked at you with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. “That’s smart.” He leaned back in the chair that you couldn’t remember him pulling over and let out a loud sigh as he poured himself another glass of that clear liquid he liked so much. “What is this?” he asked no one in particular. “Me likey.” He downed the glass and said, “I miss these talks.”

You poured yourself another shot of whiskey and took a drink only to spit it right back into the glass when you heard a male voice yell, “What the hell?!”

“Oh man,” you said as you looked at Randy standing red faced in the door way.

“Uh…” Sam said dumbly.

“Turn it off. Turn it off,” Dean whispered.

“FBI, huh?” Randy snapped as he pulled his mobile out of his pocket and began dialling what you guessed was 911. “You can save it for the cops.”

“Whoa, whoa, Mr Baxter, listen,” Sam interjected. “If – if you just let us explain, you might not –“

Sam never got to finish his explanation because all of a sudden Randy cried out and fell face first to the carpet, revealing Garth standing right behind him with a Taser in hand.

***

You were lounged back on the couch in Garth’s motel room, coffee in hand and a cold, damp cloth pressed to your forehead. You’d opted out of going with the guys to figure out what the writing on the sake box meant, but now they came through the door, took one look at Garth doing some weird karate dance crap out on the terrace and looked to you as if you had the answer to why he was so kooky.

You shrugged and pointed to the hot tub when Sam asked where Randy was. “Guy’s a lot heavier than he looks FYI.”

Garth came back inside at that point and handed Dean his EMF reader, you hadn’t even known that he’d taken it. “Thought you might want this back,” he said.

Sam came over to you then and you sat up so he could sit next to you. “Woah, bad idea,” you mumbled as you the room suddenly turned upside down and you had to lean heavily against Sam’s shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked softly. All you could do was grunt, but after pressing the back of his hand to your forehead and inspecting your face he seemed satisfied with you wellbeing. “All right,” he said as he grabbed his laptop from the coffee table and fell back next to you so you could keep leaning on him. “Shojo. Uh, let’s see what we can see.”

“What’s Shojo?” you mumbled, your eyes were too heavy to keep open, and you couldn’t tell if you were frowning or not, but your head really hurt.

“Japanese booze monster,” Dean explained.

“I guess that explains why you gotta be drunk to see it. Very poetic,” Garth said.

You began zoning out as Sam went into the lore and Dean began putting the pieces together. It was right around the time that they began discussing the possible ghost of a guy named Bobby that you passed out.

****

“Y/N. Y/N! Get up, fog horn.”

You shot up with a snort and looked wildly around. You were still in Garth’s motel room but only you and Dean were there.

“What’s going on? Where is everyone?” you asked groggily as you dragged a hand over your eyes.

“Well, while you were snoring away the rest of us were trying to figure out a way to gank this bitch,” Dean said as he grabbed the Impala keys from the bench and turned to look at you.

“Right, sorry. Probably shoulda told you guys I was a light weight.”

“You think? Look, I got a weird phone call from Garth while I got the samurai sword blessed. He’s wasted and at the brewery. Something about Randy having a secret son? And he, by the way, is gone, so thanks for guarding him.”

You frowned and scratched the back of your head as you looked over at the now empty hot tub. “Oh, you know I think I woke up and saw Garth let him out. Also, you got a blessed samurai sword? What, you got an Asian fetish or something?”

You had never seen someone execute a bitch face as perfectly as Dean did in that moment. “Were you awake for anything?”

You shrugged. “I know what a Shojo is.”

“But you know nothing else, right? Of course not. Okay, get your sweet little ass up; we’re gonna go get you a coffee then stab a booze ghost.”

“Should I really be sober for that?” you asked.

He held the door open and let you walk out first. “Right, because you can totally stab a ghost with a samurai sword while you’re so blind drunk that you can barely stand.”

“Ugh, sounds like a low budget video game,” you grumbled, tripping on the door step on your way out.

***

You and Dean, with sword in hand, came barrelling around a large shelf in the factory area of the brewery. Some kid – you realised he was the kid that Randy had been yelling at earlier – was standing with his back to the two of you. Sam was on the ground and leaning against the wall a little ways in front of him, eyes fixed on the area just in front of the kid. You strode forward and slammed a hand down on the kids shoulder – making him cry out in fear – and pulled him behind you and Dean, telling him to stay back as you did so.

Dean began swinging the sword wildly in front of him, neither of you were drunk enough now to see the Shojo, although, by the looks of Sam, you guessed he was. You were about to ask him to guide Dean, but before you got the chance to you had the wind knocked out of you. You and Dean were lying on the ground, the sword having flown out of his hand and across the floor. You both rolled to your knees to reach for it, but before either of you could lift a hand, the sword came sliding back across the floor to you as though someone had slid it towards you. You and Dean shared a look before you jumped to your feet and spun around, Dean stepping back to keep an eye on the kid.

“Where is it?!” you shouted at Sam as you raised the sword with two hands.

He pushed himself up further and said, “Uh, s-s-s-swing right!” You did as he said only to meet no resistance. “My right,” he added lamely. You shot him a murderous look before slashing the other way. “Three o’clock, Y/N!” Another slash. “Six o’clock!”

You spun and swung the sword as hard as you could, Dean ducking and pulling the kid down with him as it flew over their heads. This time you met with resistance, so you pulled the sword back and stabbed it forward. Letting go of the hilt when it seemed to get stuck in mid-air. A moment later the Shojo appeared, all long haired, and pale faced. You wanted to make a Grudge reference but didn’t feel like it was the time or place for that kind of thing.

The Shojo made a crackling noise as she looked up at you with snarling teeth, then she screamed and fell backwards, though she disintegrated before she even hit the floor. Dean moved forward and picked up the sword as you turned to the kid.

“You okay?” you asked.

“I’m alive. Yeah,” he answered.

“Sammy?” The younger brother gave you a thumbs up as he voiced his affirmation and pushed himself to his feet. 

“Where’s Garth?” Dean asked.

Randy’s son pointed down the hall past Sam. “Well, he’s – he’s over this way.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Would you go get him.”

Sam stumbled on his feet slightly before recovering and following after the kid to find Garth. You turned to look at Dean and found him staring intently at the spot where the sword had landed before it slid across the floor towards you. His eyes were flickering from place to place and you had a funny feeling that there was something in particular that he was searching for.

“This moved,” he said, and at first you thought he was talking to you, but then he continued as though he didn’t even notice you were still there. “Bobby? Are you here? Come on, do something.”

You didn’t know who Bobby was, you’d heard his name mentioned once or twice by the brothers, but it was usually said with a veil of sorrow and anger, so you never asked about him. But now you felt a few pieces click into place and wondered whether or not Bobby was a dear friend that they’d lost who may or may not have come back as a ghost.

Your head started to hurt again when you thought too much about it, so instead you walked over to Dean and put a soothing hand on his back. He turned to you then and said, “Why did it go to you?”

It felt as though he were thinking out loud rather than asking you directly if you knew why the sword decided to ghost it’s way to you, so you didn’t answer. You just rubbed his back and looked over to where Sam was watching by a corner.

***

It was the next morning and you stood in the parking lot of the motel with Sam, Dean and Garth. You rolled your shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension that was still left over from last night. You all looked like hell, well, you, Dean and Sam did. None of you had managed to get any sleep. Garth, on the other hand, looked as chipper as always as he threw his duffel bag into the front seat of his beat up ute. You envied him for that.

“You sure you guys don’t want to hang out?” he asked, turning back to you. “Grab some brunch, maybe some brews?”

You gave him a polite smile but didn’t say anything as Dean let him down easy. The kid was alright, but there was only so much of him that you could handle. And truth be told you preferred to have another long shower and try to go back to sleep rather than drink. That didn’t seem to dim his spirits though, in fact, he even walked forward and wrapped Dean in a bear hug. One that Dean didn’t look all that comfortable with.

“Call me anytime,” Garth told him.

“All right,” Dean said.

“And you, Sam.” They shook hands but then Garth said ‘come here’ and suddenly Sam was bent over awkwardly as Garth wrapped him up in a hug as well.

He turned to you next and you growled, “Don’t even think about it.” He ducked his head bashfully and held a hand out to you. You shook it and said, “It was good meeting you, Garth.”

He smiled and nodded before turning back to his car. “Sayonara, kemosabes!” he called over his shoulder as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Ugh, you were right,” you muttered in discuss as Garth peeled away, leaving behind a fog of smoke. “He has grown on me.” Dean smirked and lifted a hand in farewell to the car in the distance.

“All right, um … so, let’s talk about it,” Sam said as he turned to his brother.

“About what?” he replied in confusion. “Oh. The, uh, talking board? That’s fine. I get it, I guess.”

“No, not that. Look, I heard you.”

“Heard me what?”

“What happened in the brewery, Dean?”

Dean sighed and waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing. It was, uh – it was just my imagination.” He pushed off the car he’d been leaning against and headed back into the motel room, leaving you and Sam to trail behind him.

“Look,” Sam continued. “I know something happened. And I know Y/N was involved with it.”

“Leave me out of it,” you mumbled as you started to pack up your things. The last thing you wanted was to get involved in another sibling rivalry.

“I just want you guys to be straight with me.” You felt a little guilty when he said that, especially when you thought back to the conversation the two of you had had the night before. But this was Dean’s business, right? It was his secret to choose to hide or not. Luckily for your guilty conscience Dean decided to spill the beans.

“The blade was across the room and then it was in Y/N’s hand. And then, my beer drank itself. Oh, and then that page magically appeared on the bed. And – and then Bobby’s book fell down and out popped the number of the guy who found Cas. Nothing, I’m sure.”

“Clearly,” Sam said sarcastically.

“Well then what, Sam?” Dean snapped as he rounded on him. “Is Bobby here, or not?”

“You know what I think, Dean? I think that regular people, they see ones they lost everywhere too.”

“Yeah, freakin’ ghosts!”

“Or they just miss ‘em a lot. I mean, they see a face in the crowd, we see a book falling off the table. Same thing, Dean. I did the talking board, I ran plenty of EMF. When that beer went poof – I went a little nuts.”

“Yeah, why didn’t you tell me?”

Sam shrugged. “Like I said, little nuts at the time.” You moved forward then and grabbed on to Sam’s hand, giving it a squeeze with the hopes that it would comfort him a little. You looked to Dean, thinking that there may be a way you could comfort him too, but he seemed to relax and his face softened as he watched you with his brother.

“If it wasn’t this … Bobby, that you guys keep talking about, then what Jedi’d that sword into my hand?” you asked gently. You didn’t want to keep them fighting with each other, but this definitely sounded like something that needed to be resolved here and now to save tension on the road.

“The Shojo slammed the door from across the room. Maybe it was trying to grab the sword too.” Sam said. And you had to admit, it seemed a pretty plausible explanation. Plausible enough for even Dean to accept, it would seem.

“Right. Right,” Dean agreed as he cleared his throat. “I mean, if it was Bobby, he would let us know. I mean, who knows more about being a ghost than Bobby? Instant Swayze, right?”

“Exactly,” Sam said with a nod.

“Okay. Okay, you – so your theory is that – that we’re practically regular people about something for once. All right. Well, you want to grab some brunch and some brews?” Dean hoisted his bag to his shoulder and you groaned as you went over and grabbed your own.

“No way. I’m so hungover. Let’s just hit the road,” you said.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed with a tired chuckle.

“All right.” Dean opened the door and held it so the two of you could leave ahead of him.

You all climbed into the car but Dean jumped out a moment later and ran back to the motel. He came back with his old flask in hand and your mind jumped back to when Garth’s EMF meter had gone off around it. In fact, you realised that the EMF readings that occurred throughout this entire case seemed a bit odd and inconsistent. You had to wonder, was it Bobby’s flask?


	7. Our Nightmares Come To Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie, an old friend of the Winchester’s, calls up to drop off some books that Bobby owned before he passed. A meeting is set up but everything goes askew when Annie seems to have just disappeared. You help the brother’s re-trace Annie’s steps, discovering Bobby along the way as well as Dean’s secret need for your affection.

Your face was tilted up to the sky and you sighed in contentment as you watched the stars twinkling above you. You were leaning back against the hood of the Impala next to Sam. Dean was off some place close by grabbing some Taco’s for the three of you.

“Everything alight?” Sam asked, misconstruing the intention of your sigh as he looked down at you with concern.

You smiled and blinked slowly at him, as if in a trance. “Better than alright. Everything’s perfect.”

He scoffed. “Perfect, huh? I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“Of course not. You’d much rather let moments like these slip by.”

There was silence next to you as you continued taking in your fill of the sky, then Sam said, “Moment? What moment?”

“This. The one we’re in right now.”

“Uh, I’m not following, Y/N.”

“It’s quiet. And beautiful. And the temperature is perfect. It smells like freshly mown grass. I’ve never seen the stars shine this brightly. I’ve never travelled this far. I live for these moments.”

Sam grew suddenly serious beside you. “How long, exactly, were you stuck in that institute for?”

“I don’t know. I lost count after four years I guess.”

“They had calendars there.”

“Yeah, but who wants to keep track of their time in hell?”

He scoffed again. “Yeah, ‘cause I’d know, right?”

Your eyes shifted to Sam when he said that. You felt guilty having said what you did. He’d confessed not too long ago everything that had happened to him with Lucifer and being in the cage. Of course, he hadn’t gone into detail, you hadn’t expected him too, but it made all your life’s problems seem trivial, and you felt guilty for being so careless with your words.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. It was careless of me to say that. I shouldn’t talk about things I know nothing about.”

And, in true Sam Winchester form, he gave you a look that showed he felt guilty for making you guilty. He lifted a large hand and stroked it down your hair. “It’s okay, Y/N. You didn’t mean anything by it. I just get touchy about it sometimes. Wound’s still fresh, ya know?”

“Of course I do. I mean, I don’t. I mean, I can relate. In some way … less horrible,” you quickly stammered, trying to find the correct way to sympathise without making it look like you understood exactly what he was going through. Because you didn’t, and Sam knew that. It would be an insult to pretend you did.

Sam laughed and dropped his arm to your shoulders to pull you against him in a tight sideways hug. “Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate the effort. But you don’t need to worry about offending me. We’ve all got problems. Which issue causes the most pain and suffering all depends on perspective.”

You laughed. “Can’t say that living with a paedophile and a manipulative mother can hold a candle to living in the cage with Lucifer.”

Sam’s arm stiffened around you and his hand gripped your shoulder painfully, but you were too frozen to move. The shock of what you’d just said sending your blood cold. You’d told Dean about what you’d suffered through in a fit of anger, but you’d told yourself that you wouldn’t tell Sam, not ever. Not because you were worried that he would judge you or that you didn’t trust him enough, but because you knew he wouldn’t let it go. Dean would act like he’d never heard the words come out of your mouth if that’s what you wanted, and it had been, but Sam … Sam would give you long puppy dog looks and ask if you were okay. He’d want to do the therapist thing. He’d agonise over you and look at you like you were a frail victim. And you weren’t. You were strong and you’d beaten your demons. Of course, you’d ended up in a psychiatric institute because of it, but you’d beaten them any way.

“You … you were molested?” Sam said quietly.

You open your mouth, having absolutely no clue what you’re going to say to him. Thankfully, Dean chooses that time to stride on over holding a tray packed with food. “All right, here we go,” he said as he handed out Taco’s and drinks to the two of you.

Sam removed his arm from your shoulders to eat and he said nothing more on the subject, not knowing that Dean had already heard all about it. And you planned to keep it that way. You felt another twang of guilt in your stomach when you remembered the conversation you and Sam had had in Kansas. He wanted you to be honest with him, but this wasn’t something you could be honest about, and it wouldn’t do him good to know that Dean had found out weeks ago.

“You know,” Dean started, oblivious to the tension hanging in the air between you and Sam as he bit into his taco. “Even though the world is going to crap, there’s one thing that I can always count on – these things tasting the same in every drive-through in every state in our great nation.”

“Here’s to that,” you said with a laugh, trying to keep up the pretence of peace and take a big bite out of your taco at the same time. Before any of you could really get into your meals, a ringing sound splits through the hush of the night. You all pat your pockets but it’s Dean who pulls out the ringing phone.

“Annie,” he says as he puts it up to his ear.

You and Sam look at each other as his brother continues chatting on the phone. You give him an apologetic look and he frowns and leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “Don’t give me that look. You have nothing to be sorry for, but we’ll talk about this later.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that it wasn’t a conversation that you were ready to have, if it ever would be, but his expression led you to believe that you didn’t really have a choice. You didn’t think he would pressure you for details or to talk about the experience or the man that did that to you, but there would be a discussion about it and what it meant for you, you and him as a unit, and you as a part of this weird little team.  

“Come on. We’re going to Bodega Bay,” Dean said as he hung up the phone.

“There a case there?” you asked, grabbing your meal and rushing to the back seat.

“Just meeting a friend.”

****

The three of you sat ‘round a table looking out over the pier at Pier Front Restaurant in Bodega Bay waiting for a woman named Annie. Apparently, she was an old friend with some of Bobby’s books that she thought the boys might want. You were a little tired, you’d managed to get a little rest in the car while Dean drove, but you were feeling too anxious about the discussion that Sam wanted to have with you to truly have a good night’s sleep. Sam and Dean were looking over their menus while you perused the newspaper, already having picked out what you wanted as soon as you’d even glanced at the menu.

“Huh,” you muttered to yourself as you read over an article about Dick. You were pretty sure that he was the Leviathan guy Dean and Sam had talked about. And judging from the way they talked about him, you were pretty sure that he had something to do with the death of their friend Bobby, not that you were stupid enough to ask either of them.

“Hey, get this,” you said, getting the boy’s attention. “Dick Roman is funding another archaeological dig. Guy moves more dirt than ‘The Drudge Report’.”

“Anything on what he’s digging for?” Dean asked.

“Don’t you think I would’ve led with that,” you replied. He rolled his eyes at you and went back to his menu. Sam let out a sigh and looked down at his watch.

“Annie’s not usually this late is she?” he asked no one in particular.

“No, never. She’s totally compulsive. I’ll try her cell.” Dean pulled out his phone and began scrolling through, what you assumed, was his contacts list.

“You know, uh, you know she and Bobby had a thing, right?” Sam said with a smirk as Dean lifted the phone to his ear.

“Yeah. Yeah, I knew that,” he replied, though he didn’t sound at all convincing. A moment later your hunch was proved when he asked, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Kind of a foxhole thing – very Hemingway.”

Dean swallowed. “Huh. She and I kind of went Hemingway this one time, too.”

Sam’s face dropped and he suddenly became fixated with the menu in his hand. You stifled a laugh. You could see from a mile away what was coming. “All right, well … that happens,” he mumbled, as if trying to convince himself. It didn’t seem to work and he ended up pulling a face at Dean when he looked at him.

“What, you too?” his brother asked.

Sam shrugged and rushed to explain. “Look, it was a while back. We ended up on the same case. She was stressed. I – I – I … I didn’t … have a soul.”

“Wait, you didn’t have a soul?” you hissed as you leant across the table towards him.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he retorted, almost as though he hadn’t even thought about saying it. It was like it just blurted out of his mouth. You figured it must have been at the front of his mind for a while now. So you glared at him. Because that’s all you could do when the hot guy across from you wanted you to talk about the part of your life that fucked you up to begin with.

“There something I need to know?” Dean growled, phone still at his ear as he watched the two of you like a hawk. It was funny how he instigated fights all the time, but the minute other people in the posse started fighting he had to act as mediator and break it up.

“No,” both you and Sam said in unison. Dean looked as though he might argue, but he sighed instead and hung up his phone before pouring some alcohol out of his flask and into his coffee. “She’s not answering. So, here’s to ghosts that aren’t there.”

“You sound kind of disappointed,” you said softly. Without thinking, you reached forward and put a slender hand on his thick forearm. You’d done it a million times for Sam before, so it didn’t even click to you that Dean might not want the same kind of comfort that his brother did. But Dean didn’t shrug you off. Instead, he looked at you. Like, actually looked at you, without out all the suspicion and concealed disdain. He looked at you like someone that was near and dear to his heart, which shocked you a little, but you didn’t let it show on your face, you just let him say what he needed to say.

“It’s better this way. I mean, even though I wish we could see him again doesn’t mean that we should.” He picked his mug up and clinked it against yours before taking a sip. You said nothing because it didn’t seem like he needed words. So you just stroked your hand up and down his forearm a couple of times before turning back to the newspaper. He set his mug down fairly hard on the table a moment later and held his hands out. “Are we being stood up?” he asked.

Sam looked at his watch. “Yeah, let’s hope that’s all this is.”

You were about to say that maybe she got caught up in traffic and left her phone at the motel, but then you saw Dean’s flask move. Or, at least, you thought you saw it move. It was on its side and it rolled slightly. You thought that maybe it could have been a breeze but you didn’t feel any wind against your skin, and your table wasn’t anywhere near the door. You thought about bringing it up and telling Sam and Dean, but you didn’t want the subject of Bobby to come up again. You didn’t think you could listen to the two of them bicker over whether or not their dead friend had come back as a ghost, again.

****

You were strolling towards the Impala, hands in pocket with Sam and Dean on either side of you. Dean was trying Annie’s cell again, though you were sure that if he didn’t reach her the first time than he wasn’t going to reach her a second time either. The entire situation gave you a bad feeling, and you had to supress the shiver that ran up your spine.

“Nothing?” Sam asked as Dean ended the call again.

“Straight to voicemail. Something’s not right,” he replied.

You didn’t like the dismal look on his face. It seemed as though every time the boys got a break, something popped up and ruined the peace. So, you tried to help them figure out what was going on. “Well, what’s she doing in Bodega Bay? Surely she didn’t just come here to drop off books, she must have already been passing through.”

“She’s working some kind of job. She didn’t really say,” he answered as he pulled his flask from his coat jacket. He unscrewed the lid and shook it upside down – it was empty. “I got to get a refill,” he muttered.

You saw Sam press his lips together in disapproval, but he held his tongue and walked the last few paces to his side of the car. Dean went to follow him but you grabbed a hold of his jacket sleeve and pulled him back towards you. He gave you a disgruntled look but you’d given up on trying to make him happy so it didn’t bother you. What mattered right now was throwing water on the embers before the fire roared up and got out of control. You’d seen the fight boiling under Sam’s skin for a few days now. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that Dean was drinking too much, or that he was using Bobby’s flask all the time, or if it was a combination of both. Either way it was irritating Sam, and the fact that he hadn’t brought it up yet probably meant that it was going to blow up into a huge fight within the next week or so.

“Why don’t you pack it away for a while?” you said quietly as you nodded your head at the flask in his hand. “All it does is remind you guys of him, you know? I didn’t know the guy, but I do know what it’s like to lose someone that means a lot to you. I know how hard it is to let go and how you can lose yourself when you don’t.”

He looked like he might snap at you. Tell you to back off and mind your own business, that you didn’t know what the hell you were talking about. But then he stopped suddenly and looked at you. Or more like, he studied you. “I’m not going to hit you, Y/N,” he growled. He sounded insulted when he said it, but not angry.

You frowned up at him in confusion. “I know that.”

“Really? Because you’re bracing yourself like I’m about to sock you one.”

“Oh, uh, I was expecting you to get angry at me. It’s a force of habit, I guess.”

“You mean ‘cause of that asshole?”

You laughed. “I love how eloquent you are. Yeah. It’s ‘cause of the asshole. Look, I think Sammy just found out about him. But he doesn’t know that you know. I didn’t want him to find out, or you for that matter. Shit happens, I guess.”

Dean nodded. “I get it. I won’t say anything. Oh, and, uh, about the flask? I thought about putting it away. Just, not yet. But I’ll try not to use it in front of Sam so much.”

You smiled your thanks at him and he put a large hand on your head, much like Sam had done when you’d all stopped to get tacos. With the hand on the back of your head he pulled you forward and planted an affectionate kiss on your forehead.

****

You were sitting on the end of the bed in Annie’s hotel room and Sam was squished in next to you, on leg stretched out behind you while the other foot rested against the floor. He was looking over your shoulder at the pile of papers you had spread out on your legs. “These go back years,” you told Dean. He was sitting at the table over by the window looking at his own pile of papers. “Disappearances never solved. They stop a few decades back, then pick up again just recently. All teenagers.”

“Looks like Annie found a spot a lot of them liked to poke around just before they went missing,” Dean said as he got up and came over to where you and Sam sat. He gave Sam an odd look but he’d gotten so used to his brother being unusually close and touchy feely with you that he stopped commenting on it when it happened.

“Yeah?” you said as Dean handed you a booklet on a locally famous house.

“Yeah. Old Van Ness house.”

You scoffed as you looked at the pictures, and you and Dean said in unison, “It looks cheery.”

You both shared an amused look and Sam rolled his eyes at the two of you as he took the book from your hands. “Well, the police combed the place. They always came up dry.”

Dean said something about local law, but you zoned the two of them out as you noticed that the curtain over by the window fluttered in the wind. The only problem was that the window was closed. And so was the door. You supressed a shiver as you felt a cold spot pass you by. Suddenly a hand was clicking fingers in front of your face. You blinked and looked up at Dean and Sam. They were looking down at you with frowns.

“You still in there?” Dean asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking.”

“You want to fill us in, maybe?” Sam said.

“It’s, uh, it’s not important,” you said quickly as you took the book back from Sam. “Look, a couple months back someone put the house on one of those, uh, ‘most haunted house in America’ lists.” Dean took the bait and said that that was probably when the teenagers started going missing again. But you could feel Sam’s eyes practically burning through your temple. “I say we get rolling,” you said as you suddenly stood up, barely stopping the papers in your lap from tumbling to the ground.

****

The three of you push through the creaky doors of the old, Victorian style house, torches held high in each of your hands. You let out a low whistle as you take in the enormous entrance hall, complete with fireplace and all. “Honey, I’m home,” you muttered. It was cold as hell, but not like low temperature cold, more like the cold you’d felt in Annie’s motel room.

“All right, let’s go,” Dean said as he headed up the nearby staircase. You and Sam weren’t far behind. “Annie?” he called out as you all entered the first room on the second landing.

“Try her cell,” you said as Sam held up the whirring and blinking EMF meter in his hand. Dean did as you said and a ringing cut through the thickening atmosphere of the room. You led the way down a hall and into another room further down, only to stop short when you almost trod on a ringing mobile that had been discarded on the ground.

Dean picked it up and began flicking through Annie’s call log – you figured it was safe to assume that it was her phone. You decided not to wait around, so you all made your way back to the entrance hall before heading up another flight of stairs that lead to a landing over the front door.

“The call to me was the last one she made. So where the hell is she?” Dean growled, obviously becoming more distressed the longer it took to find Annie. Sam was leading the way up the stairs with you and Dean stomping along behind. At the sound of stress in his voice you absentmindedly pushed your hand up under his shirt and onto his warm, naked back to offer comfort.

Once you reached the top of the landing he turned to you and wrapped a hand around your upper arm to stop you in your tracks. He waited for Sam to move ahead out of earshot before he spoke quietly to you. “What are you doing? This isn’t exactly the time to be hitting on me.”

“What? Dean, I’m not hitting on you.”

He scoffed. “Really? So what’s with all,” – he motioned towards the stairs – “Look, I get that you and Sam are getting all touchy feely and gooey over each other. But you can’t – can’t do that with him. A – and then do that with me.”

You frowned at him, then you laughed. Apparently loud enough that Dean had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. You yanked his hand away once you’d regained your composure, but there was still a smile spread across your face. “Dean, I’m not hitting on you. I’m not hitting on Sam either. He went through a lot of crap when he was seeing Lucifer. Don’t tell him I told you this, but he was the cuddly type, he liked touching me when he felt stressed out.” You shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess it worked for him. It’s just a habit now to do it whenever he sounds stressed. And you being his brother, well, I made the assumption that you were the same. It just comes naturally to me I guess. I don’t even think when I do it half the time. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it made you uncomfortable. I’ll try not to do it.”

“Well, I mean,” Dean started hastily. “You don’t have to stop. It must help you too right? I mean, you wouldn’t just keep touching us like that out of the goodness of your heart. Who am I to take that away from you?” He cleared his throat and swallowed thickly as he looked at you with an almost boyish expression.

You smiled. “Dean, if you wanted to get into my pants you should’ve just said so.”

He rolled his eyes and the grouchy expression was back. “You gotta make everything difficult don’t you?” he called over his shoulder as he followed the path his brother took down the hall. You could do nothing but laugh as you followed him.

The two of you finally caught up to Sam. Dean had decided to listen to some of Annie’s voicemail messages to see if he could dig up anything from those. Sam was still waving the EMF meter back and forth.

“We’re redlining all over the place,” Sam said. “Assume the worst?”

“Yeah, I always do,” Dean said as he finished up with one message and moved on to the next. You thought about reaching out to him again, but he was probably still holding a grudge over your teasing so you kept your hands to yourself and brushed up against Sam instead to see how he was doing. He squeezed your hand tightly but didn’t seek out any more contact than that. You took it as a good sign.

“Okay,” he said to his brother. “Vengeful spirit, maybe lots of them. Killing kids. Look around. No blood. No anything. Certainly no bodies.”

Dean didn’t seem to hear him, he was too engrossed in a particular message, so you answered for him. “If evil is partying here, it’s got a hell of a cleanup crew.”

“Guys. Listen to this,” Dean said suddenly as he pulled Annie’s phone from his ear and put it on loudspeaker. “It’s from earlier this week.”

There was some crackling and buzzing background noise, but if you listened hard enough you could here a young woman’s voice saying ‘free me, free me’.

“Where’d that come from?” you asked.

Dean turned the phone around to show you the screen. In place of the phone number was a string of the star symbols that you see on some keyboards above the number 8. “You ever seen a phone number look like that?”

****

After about an hour or so, the three of you ended up back in a living room by the entrance hall. “Well,” Dean said in resignation. “That is every square inch of this place. No bodies, no pieces of bodies – no Annie. A whole lot of sizzle and no steak.”

“Well, maybe no news is good news,” Sam said with forced cheer that made even you cringe.

“Meaning?” Dean asked.

“Meaning maybe she’s just not here. Maybe she’s still okay.” You smiled sympathetically at Sam’s optimism, but you knew that all of this could mean nothing good. Something had happened to Annie, and you were willing to bet that you wouldn’t be seeing her alive any time soon.

“Yeah, and what does your gut say?” Dean growled, his train of thought obviously following yours.

“Why don’t we just go and see if there’s anything else in her research,” you said hopefully. The brothers were under a lot of stress, the last thing they needed was to get snappy at one another.

****

A quick flick back through Annie’s research papers revealed that she’d gotten all her information from the Bodega Bay Heritage Society. The easiest way to figure out what happened to her was to re-trace her steps and follow her leads. So here you stood, staring at a large black and white photo of the Van Ness house with information about the early residents of Bodega Bay below it. Normally you didn’t mind listening to a bit of history, especially when it was about a town as old as Bodega Bay, but by God did the historian bore you.

You tried, you really did, but you couldn’t listen to his monotonous answers to questions where you all already knew the answers, or could at least safely assume the answers too. You could have easily done a quick google search to find out that Whitman Van Ness, the heir of the house, had lost the family fortune and the house, causing it to become a bordello. He lived by himself and died at the age of forty. And that Dexter O’Connell, a brute of a man, was a convict and soon became grounds keeper when Whitman took pity on him. Apparently that backfired though, because on the eve of Whitman’s wedding his fiancée was killed and Dexter was the one that was convicted for the murder.

The only time the historian managed to catch your interest was when he mentioned that Annie had come in to ask questions about the house. He’d told her that the place was dangerous and to stay away from it.

With that daunting message, you, Dean and Sam made the trip back to your own motel, and you practically knocked Dean onto his ass to get first dibs of the shower. You’d be damned if he was going to use up all the hot water before you got a chance to rub off the grime from the creepy Van Ness house. His growl and sour look had been worth the hot spray of water that you now stood under. The bathroom door was left open so you could hear the brother’s discuss the case, but you had a shower curtain that was actually hole-free, so you still had your privacy.

“So, besides Whitman’s fiancée,” Sam called out. “Dexter O’Connell was also convicted of killing a bunch of hookers who worked at the brothel. The newspaper headline reads ‘Woman slain on eve of wedding was fiancée of Whitman Van Ness’. He escaped before they could hang him. But then he returned to the house, where he was found shot to death.” There was a pause and then Sam spoke again, though his voice was so close that you thought he might be leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. “Why would he escape, and then go right back to the house where he got arrested?”

“I don’t know,” you called out. “Add that to a list of things I don’t know.” You tilted your head back under the spray to wash the last of your conditioner out of your hair. You thought you heard a fridge door slam shut and figured Dean was getting his booze on. You were glad that at least he wasn’t using the flask.

You thought you heard Sam ask what the next move was, but you didn’t answer. Truth be told you were too busy practically melting under the shower, and you didn’t think Sam was asking you anyway. Finally, with a disappointed sigh, you turned the water off and reached around the curtain to grab a towel off the rack.

You wrung your hair out and wrapped a towel tight around your body as you stepped out of the bath basin. You grabbed a smaller towel off the rack and quickly rubbed it over your hair to soak up as much water as you could before combing your fingers through the damp strands. You froze mid motion as your eyes landed on the small mirror above the sink.

“Sam!” you called out; and whatever he heard in your voice had both he and Dean rushing to the door.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. You nodded towards the mirror. “Tell me you wrote that.” The steam from the shower had left a fine layer of condensation covering the surface of the mirror, and right in the middle were the words ‘Annie trapped in house’, as though someone had come in and written it in the condensation with their finger.

“No. No, I didn’t,” Sam said as he stared at the mirror.

“Well, then, who’s there?” you said softly. “I said who’s there!” you snapped. Ghosts weren’t normally an issue for you, but right now your heart was about to jump out of your throat. You had a feeling that It was because whoever it was had been in the bathroom mere feet from you without you even knowing. It made you wonder how many times a volatile ghost could have been right next to you without you ever knowing.

You felt a heavy hand on your shoulder and a chest at your back, by the feel of the height difference you were guessing it was Sam. Everything was silent for a few seconds, and then the hot water faucet turned and steam began to rise from the sink. And as you watched on in horror, the words began to disappear only to be replaced with a new one. ‘Bobby’.

“Bobby?” Dean called. You backed out of the bathroom past the brothers and started looking around the room. They began looking around the bathroom, though you were pretty sure they were looking for something – someone – else. “This whole time, we’ve been trying to talk ourselves out of it, he’s been – what’s he doing here?”

You finally spotted the flask that you had been looking for and picked it up from the dresser that Dean had tossed it on. “Guys.” You rushed back to the bathroom and held the flask out to Dean. “We got to get back to that house, stat.”

****

“You know how to work one of these?” Dean asked as he grabbed a sawn-off from the boot of his Impala and handed it to you. You checked that he’d actually handed you a loaded gun before racking the slide and looking at him, letting your actions answer his question. He shook his head and sighed, as though wondering why he bothered asking. Instead of commenting he turned to his brother and said, “We combed the crap out of this place. If Annie’s in there and we didn’t find her …”

“It’s ‘cause someone didn’t want us to,” Sam finished.

“Awesome. Well, let’s walk right into that.”

With those fighting words, you, Sam and Dean headed back into the Van Ness house for the second time that week; guns and flashlights at the ready.

“All right, I’ll check upstairs,” you said as you jogged up the stairs over the front door. You re-traced your steps from last time, calling out Annie’s name every time you entered a new room. “Annie? I’m here with Dean and Sam!”

You sighed in resignation as you reached the end of the hall with no luck, and just as you were about to turn back the way you came you heard Dean call out, “Y/N, get back down here!” Figuring there was something wrong you took off at a run and bounded down the stairs two at a time.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, and your eyes flicked around the room for something to shoot. He motioned with his head for you to come over to him and that’s when you noticed the camera in his hands. Sam was looking over his shoulder at the screen, and, with you being shorter than the both of them, Dean let you stand in front of him while he looked down over the top of you.

All you could see in the screen was what amounted to a tour of the room you were currently standing in. You couldn’t see any people, but based on the voices you could hear you guessed that there were at least two teenage boys.

“The final moments of their love story,” one of them said.

“They’ve been together since, like, the eighth grade,” the other responded. You decided to label them Dummy One and Dummy Two respectively. Because anyone who went into a haunted house with a camera right after their friends went missing there were no more than the towns idiots.

“Yeah. They entered this house and texted us,” Dummy One said.

You sighed as the faux-ominous commentary continued. “I hate these indie films. Nothing ever happens.”

“Ditto,” Dean said gruffly.

“They came into the house. They walked through these halls,” Dummy Two said with a shaky voice. You had a feeling that he hadn’t been completely on board with this horror show trip. The shot seem to tilt a little as grey lines covered the screen, but then it righted itself so you thought nothing of it. Apparently Sam felt otherwise because he told Dean to pause it and take it back a frame.

It was faint, but you could just make out the corporeal image of an older woman, maybe with brown hair? You couldn’t tell because she looked far paler than she probably should’ve been had she been alive. She could have been any one of the ghosts that Sam’s EMF had been picking up on the night before, but with the way the boys tensed up behind you, you were guessing that it was Annie.

“She’s here, and not in a good way,” Dean said. Not for the first time you thought about reaching out to him again, but the look of determination showed that he would much rather put his anger and sorrow into the job rather than cry it out on your shoulder.

Dean put the camera down as he and Sam began calling out for Annie again, you started shining your flashlight around the room, hoping that maybe you’d catch a glimpse of something. “Shit!” you snapped as a woman appeared out of nowhere in front of you. You shouldered the shotgun as Dean and Sam came up on either side of you. The only thing that kept you from pulling the trigger was her throwing her hands up in surrender and taking a step back.

“Please, I’m Victoria – Victoria Dodd,” she said softly. You took a second to take in the pale skin, dark hair twisted up in a Victorian era up do with the purple, poufy dress to match. You cringed just thinking about the horrid contraptions women of that era had to endure wearing.

“Where’d you come from?” Sam asked.

“Here,” she answered simply. “I was a fancy lady.”

Dean seemed to frown in thought for a moment before blurting out, “A hooker?”

You elbowed him sharply in the ribs and grumbled at him about manners. Victoria lifted her chin in indignation and looked away from the three of you as though she were considering disappearing.

“Is Annie here?” you asked quickly with a polite smile, you even dropped the weapon to your side, earning hard looks from the brothers.

She smiled back and took a step towards you. Sam’s hand was on your shoulder a moment later and he began to pull you back but you shook him off and shot him a glare. Victoria ignored the exchange and said to you, “Yes.” You started to look around but stopped when she continued, “You can’t see her. No, you’re not standing on her.” You thought the last part was a bit odd to say but a glance at Dean’s shifting feet and guilty expression explained everything. Victoria paused for a second and cocked her head to the side slightly as though she were listening to something. She looked behind her then and said, “I will. In my day, we believed in polite conversation.” – she turned back to you – “Annie’s in terrible danger. We all are.”

“From?” you asked.

“Whitman Van Ness,” she answered.

“But he’s dead,” Dean interjected. You almost rolled your eyes at the foolish comment. Dead people was one of the things he did, surely he didn’t have to make that big of a leap to grasp what was going on.

Victoria must have thought so too, because she looked behind her again and said, “I thought you said they were good.”

“Hey, don’t lump me in with them,” you said indignantly. Dean got you back by sending one of his elbows into your ribs before turning back to the ghost.

“Hey, I’m just processing, okay, lady? He’s dead. You’re dead. Define ‘terrible danger’.”

She began speaking in a rushed tone. “Whitman has great power over all of us in the house. He killed Annie. She says you can free us. Please, you must – “ You never got to hear what she was going to say next, because all of a sudden her body jerked and she let out a yelp, then flames began to lick up her middle as she screamed. It felt like minutes, but really it only lasted a few seconds before she had burned up completely and disappeared.

“Victoria?” Sam called out when everything fell silent.

“Okay,” you began as you turned to Sam and Dean. “I’m gonna say she was telling the truth, considering that she just … got ghost-killed.”

“So, what? Whitman Van Ness?” Sam said.

You looked at Dean and the two of you shrugged before he said, “Now we know whose bones to salt an burn. Let’s go.”

****

You shivered and rubbed your arms in the back seat. “Does it feel colder than usual in here?” you asked. Again, it wasn’t the kind of cold that you felt when the temperature dropped, but more like how you’d felt in the motel and the Van Ness house.

“I told you to bring a second jacket,” Dean said as he met your eyes in the rear view mirror. Sam was sitting in the passenger seat surfing the net to find something about the Van Ness burial site. You shook your head and frowned.

“No,” you said absentmindedly as you looked around the back seat. “It’s something else.”

“All right,” Sam began. “Here we go – cemetery, edge of town. The Van Ness family has it’s own mausoleum.“

“All right, we light up the bastard and finish him off,” Dean said. You jolted a little as you felt the car accelerate suddenly.

Sam chuckled. “Take it easy. We’ll get there.”

But before Dean even said anything you could tell something was wrong. His shoulders were tensing up and you violently shivered as you felt something pass through you.

“Uh, that’s not me,” Dean said as he sent Sam a nervous glance. You took a death grip on the back of the front seat as the car began jerking from side to side on the road. Dean seemed to be struggling to hold on to the steering wheel as it tried to turn to the left. You were about to lean forward to help Dean wrestle the car back under control but jerked back as the ghost of a middle-aged looking man appeared. He was dressed up in Victorian era-looking garb so you were guessing that this was the infamous Whitman. He had his hands in a tight grip around the steering wheel, fighting Dean for control as the car began accelerating again. The car swerved back and forth a few more times before Dean finally managed to jerk it to the side and slam on the breaks. The three of you flew out of the Impala the minute it came to a halt.

“Why’s he with us?” Sam yelled as he ran a few meters away from the car.

You followed before turning around to make sure Dean was okay. He caught up to you and panted out, “I don’t know. There’s got to be something on us!”

The three of you began patting down your pockets and it didn’t take long before one of you found something. “Hey, hey,” Sam said as he pulled a large, rustic looking key out of his pocket. He grunted and his body jerked a moment later. You and Dean watched on in horror as Whitman appeared behind Sam, a hand buried in his back.

“Sam!” you yelled as you rushed forward. You ripped the key out of his hand threw it to the ground, whipping out the handgun that Dean had given you to tuck into the back of your jeans, and sent a bullet straight into it. Whitman vanished into a cloud of dust and Sam gasped as he stumbled a little on his feet. You rushed to him and placed a gentle hand on the side of his face, coaxing him to look at you. “Sammy. You okay?”

He nodded at you and stroked a large hand down the back of your head in reassurance, muttering a thank you as he tried to get control of his breathing again.

“Did that do it?” he asked once he straightened up. “Did that get rid of him?”

“I don’t know,” you said.

“I got a bad idea we just snapped him back to his favourite house,” Dean said.

“Where Annie’s a sitting duck,” Sam said.

You rushed back to the Impala, pulling Dean along by the sleeve because he had the keys, else you would’ve left the both of them there for being so slow. “We got to find those bones. Come on.”

****

Three beams of light cut through the darkness of the cemetery as you all waved your flashlights around to find the mausoleum. It didn’t take long, what with the overdone, majesty look of the freakin’ thing. You really hated rich people sometimes. You helped Sam push the heavy wooden doors open and Dean rushed through in search of Whitman’s tomb. It was in the back at about eye level, and he handed you his flashlight as he manned the chisel and hammer he’d brought with him to try and pry the plaque from the wall.

He made quick work of it and Sam moved forward to help him pull the coffin out and tear the lid off to reveal a skeleton wrapped up in a suit similar to the one Whitman had been wearing back in the car. Dean pulled a box of matches out of his jacket and lit one of them, throwing it into the coffin and squirting a little lighter fluid in after it. None of you said anything as you all stood around the body and watched it burn. It wasn’t the time for that, and you had a feeling that Sam and Dean were more concerned with the friend that had jumped off the one way ride to heaven.

****

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck as you trudged back into the Van Ness house behind Dean. Sam was trailing behind you, hands on your shoulders so he could your exhausted body. You frowned and stopped in the entrance as you saw an older, brown haired man with a beard and trucker hat sitting on the floor.

“Hi, boys,” he said.

Dean shines the flashlight at him and swallowed, staring wide eyed at the man. “Bobby?” he whispered.

“Wait,” the man replied as he pulled himself to his feet. “You can see me?” No one said anything. You figured the boys were too shocked, but you kept silent because it wasn’t your place to say anything. The man – Bobby – smiled. “You’re staring, you know.” You all suddenly found your shoes very interesting. “Annie’s here, too, by the way.”

Dean and Sam looked around the room while you chanced another glance at Bobby. He gave you a soft smile, but said nothing.

“Hi Annie,” Sam and Dean said.

Bobby jerked a thumb over his right shoulder and said, “She says you both look uglier than she remembered.” He swayed slightly, as though someone had just punched him in the arm.

“Bobby, h – how’d you stay here?” Sam asked.

A guilty look spread across his face as he walked over to a nearby draw. “Yeah, well, uh…” He pulled it open and took out the old flask that Dean was always carrying around. He came back to stand in front of the three of you and tossed it to Dean with a ‘suck on that, Swayze’ comment that made you stifle a laugh.

“That’s why you never answered me,” Sam said suddenly in realisation, earning a confused frown from Bobby. “I tried calling you – the, uh, talking board, the works – but I was always alone. Dean always had that thing in his pocket. That’s why the EMF only went off half the time. We thought we were going crazy.”

Dean interjected before Bobby ever got a chance to comment. “S-so, what happened? Did you get stuck or – or what?”

Bobby shrugged and pressed his lips together. “I wanted to stay.” And your heart dropped at those words because you knew exactly what it meant for him and the boys.

“Bobby,” Dean said. And there was so much emotion in that long, drawn out word.

“I need to help,” Bobby said in defence.

Sam’s jaw ticked and you automatically smoothed a hand across his back. Bobby followed the movement with his eyes, but if he thought anything of it he didn’t say so. “Not if it means you have to … be this,” Sam said softly. You knew that the lost puppy look would make an appearance soon, and you moved in closer to him to prepare for it.

“Well,” Bobby started, a new sense of determination hardening his features, “life wasn’t comfy. Why should death be? Now, come on. Annie and I found all the bodies. Let’s put ‘em to rest.” He headed toward the staircase that lead to the landing above the door and turned back to look at Dean when his foot landed on the first step. “And keep my damn flask away from the fire … obviously.” He began heading up the stairs but stopped again when he was half way up. You, Sam and Dean were still rooted to the ground in the entrance hall. “Well, you coming?” Bobby demanded.

****

You lagged behind on the front steps with Bobby as the brother’s went on ahead to load all the equipment into the back of the Impala again. You hesitated a moment, but figured this was now or never. “Hey, Bobby?” you said quietly. He paused before going down the steps and turned to look at you. “Could I talk to you for a moment?”

“Well, I don’t see why not. I kinda owe you one anyway. Whadda you need, kid?” he said with a smile.

You breathed out a short laugh and shook your head as you kicked at the ground. “You don’t owe me anything. The guys did all the heavy lifting in there; I just tagged along for the ride.”

“Thank you for helping out with that. But that’s not what I was talking about.”

You frowned up at him in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I’m not following.”

“You forget, kid. I’ve been hanging around in the shadows for a while. I’ve seen pretty much everything that goes on with you and the boys when Dean’s around. I hear the little pep talks you give them, the reassuring hugs when no one is looking so they can still look all manly. I see when you sit down and just listen to them spill out their thoughts and when you prevent them from fighting, which, by the way, is incredible. I don’t think I’ve seen them go so long without breaking into a big ‘ol dog fight.”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” you laughed as you waved a dismissive hand and tried to hide your blush. You weren’t sure why, but Bobby’s approval meant a lot to you. Maybe it was because he was important to the boys? Or maybe it was because right now he seemed more like a proud father to you than your actual father had been, well … ever.

Bobby smiled and your uncharacteristic shyness, but he moved the conversation on to ease your discomfort. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

Your head shot up and you forced your brain back to the subject at hand. “Right, uh, I know it isn’t my place to say this, but, uh, take it easy on them would you?” you said nodding to the boys. “I mean, Dean’s taking it pretty hard, especially. He’s not happy about what you did. He’s probably gonna say some things he doesn’t mean, but he really missed you. And despite the circumstances, I actually think he’s glad he’s gotten a chance to see you again. This will give them both a chance to have some closure.”

He grunted in agreement – or at least you hoped that was what it was – as he watched the boys for a moment. He turned back to you suddenly and said, “I get where you’re coming from. And I’m grateful for your concern about the boys. But I’m not ready to go yet. They’re going to fight me on it, that’s just a given, but whatever closure they’re looking for, whatever closure you think they need, they’re not getting it tonight.”

Bobby turned away from you then and headed down the stairs. You sighed and followed him, because that’s all you could do. You hadn’t counted on Bobby being as stubborn as a Winchester, and now you were left feeling like you were trying to juggle the world and their emotional baggage. Not to mention you still had your own crap to deal with, but you guessed that would be sitting on the back burner for a while.

“I’ll miss Annie,” Bobby said softly as he joined the brothers by the boot of the Impala.

“Me too,” Dean said.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.

“Well,” Bobby drawled with a secretive smile, “you didn’t know her like I did.”

You began laughing but managed to cover it with a cough as Sam glared at you and Dean laughed nervously. “Well, uh …” Dean pulled the flask out of his coat jacket and lifted it in a toast. “Here’s to Annie. She got the hunter’s funeral she wanted.” He took a long draw from the flask, and by that alone you could tell he was teeming himself for a fight. “Kind of like the one we thought we gave you,” he said right on cue as he screwed the lid back on.

“Dean,” you said softly as Sam pressed his lips together in disapproval. He ignored you and kept on taking his anger out on Bobby.

“What were you thinking, Bobby? You could be in heaven right now, drinking beer at Harvelle’s, not – not stuck …”

“Stuck here with you?” Bobby snapped. “We still have work to do. I just thought that was kind of important, Dean.”

You felt your brows furrow and you itched to wrap your arms around Dean’s waist as you saw the conflicted emotions he was struggling with painted clearly across his face. Sam seemed to notice your distress, because a moment later he pulled you into his side where you were enveloped by his arm.

“It’s not right, and you know that,” Dean said.

“Sorry. You’re right,” Bobby retorted sarcastically. “What was I thinking?” He disappeared a moment later and Dean shared a glance with his brother before throwing the flask into the boot and slamming it shut.

****

You’d been driving for half an hour before you finally spoke up. You were sitting in the passenger seat, a privilege afforded to you only because Sam was exhausted enough to want to pass out on the back seat. Dean’s jaw had been ticking non-stop, and you’d been dealing with an internal struggle on whether or not to say something. He might need to talk about it, but on the other hand, if you pushed too much, he’d just be irritated with you more than he normally was and you’d become the hindrance that you’d fought so hard to not be in his eyes. Eventually, you just couldn’t take it anymore, and your resolve gave.

“What are you gonna do?” you asked him quietly.

“Don’t,” he snapped. You jumped a little at the extra roughness that seemed to be added to his usual growl, but you pushed on.

“Please, don’t do that. I know we’re not that close, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t bother me to see you this upset. Sam is asleep, Dean. You can say anything you want to say. I’m not going to tell him. I won’t tell anyone. I won’t even bring it up again once we get out of this car. But you need to get it off your chest, even if it’s just the once.”

He sighed in irritation, but his jaw stopped ticking and he gave you a sideways glanced. It was better than nothing. “You’re a real pain in my ass. You know that?”

You smiled. “That’s funny. And here I was thinking you wanted to inflict pain on my ass.” His shocked glance, uncomfortable shifting and not-so-subtle adjustment of his tight jeans was almost too much to bare, and you had to slap a hand over your mouth just to stop from laughing so loud that you woke Sam up.

“Fine. I’ll talk, just as long as you stop making bad jokes about that,” Dean grumbled.

You pressed your lips together to stop from laughing again, and you found it interesting that the comment seemed to be what helped him get his rocks off, but each to their own you guessed. It had been so long for you that practically anything would do it for you. Nevertheless, you agreed to his terms.

“Right. Okay,” Dean started when you made the deal. “You asked what I was going to do. Well, me and Sammy, we did what we should do. Now, I don’t know.”

You nodded and said, “Do you think it’s possible that you could – I don’t know – make it all work somehow?”

Dean shook his head and snorted. “I have no idea. Maybe. I’ve never heard of it. But you know what I do know?” he asked as he looked at you. “It ain’t the natural order of things. Everything is supposed to end. You know, he was supposed … “ he stopped there and swallowed thickly. You lifted your hand towards his head but stopped mid motion, hesitating on whether or not to touch him the way you had touched Sam so many times before. Sure, you’d given Dean passing touches and strokes here and there, but you were still unsure what exactly he would welcome and what he wouldn’t. He never struck you as the affectionate type, but everyone needed to be comforted, right?

That thought alone spurred you on. You reached up with renewed confidence and tunnelled your fingers through his short hair, scraping your nails against the back of his scalp and neck. He closed his eyes briefly at the contact before opening them again and looking at you. Everything in his eyes just seemed so raw, you were finding it difficult to pin down exactly what it was that he was feeling.

“What are the odds this ends well?” he asked. You didn’t answer. Because really, what kind of answer could you give him?


	8. The Nightmare With The Girl Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst laying low in Bobby’s old cabin, the ghost in question pops up again to finally reveal the information that he’d found out about Dick’s construction sites before he died. At the same time, Sam receives an e-mail from Frank saying that he is more than likely dead, and his hard drive is being hacked into. After tracking it’s GPS you find out that the hard drive is right in the middle of Richard Roman Enterprises - the dragon’s den itself. Enlisting the help of a red-headed, hacker geek named Charlie, you, Dean and Sam manage to pull off your plan to wipe Frank’s hard drive, hack Dick’s e-mail, and steal whatever it was that he’d dug up in Iran all in one night. Along the way Bobby raises concern by going vengeful spirit on Dick’s ass, and Sam finally confronts you about what happened to you as a child, and how you knew Castiel when he he showed up to the institute to bust you and Sam out.

You were sitting on an old red couch in an old cabin. You were pretty sure Sam said it was an old hide-away of Bobby’s, but you’d been too busy drooling over the rustic, homely feel of the place to actually pay attention to what he’d said. He was talking on the phone to a woman named Nora now, and it didn’t seem as though he was getting the information he needed on Dick’s dig sites. Just as he hung up, Dean came in from the kitchen and perched on the arm of the couch right next to you, running a hand over the back of your head as he did so.

Ever since he’d allowed you to touch him and comfort him the way you did Sam, you found that Dean was in fact more affectionate than Sam was. It shocked you at first. Dean never seemed the affectionate type, so you expected him to be picky about when he touched you, but the minute those floodgates opened there was no stopping him. It was like he’d been starved for affection for years. You supposed that he had. From what you’d heard about John, he was never the affectionate type. Sam had grown up without it, so the loss of it hadn’t bothered him much. But Dean still remembered what it had been like when his mother was alive. He knew what it felt like to be held and loved. He knew what affection felt like, and he’d lost it. Somewhere along the way you’d gained his trust enough that he used you to fill that craving for touch. Even Sam’s laughs and playful jabs about it hadn’t deterred Dean from being affectionate with you. You didn’t mind in the slightest either. You were just as starved as the both of them. You needed them just as much as they needed you.

“So, Nora didn’t see any pattern to the dig sites either,” Sam said as he came and sat on the couch next to you. His knee pressed against yours.

“Yeah ‘cause they got nothing in common,” Dean said.

“And I got nothing from local lore fifty miles in every direction of all of them. I mean, it’s like they’re just … old dirt. What’s Dick looking for?” you mused.

Dean shrugged and unscrewed the lid from Bobby’s flask. He had stuck with his promise to not drink from it in front of Sam, but ever since Bobby showed up he hadn’t exactly been keeping it. The lights in the cabin began to flicker as Dean took a sip from the flask. The three of you looked around a moment before Dean and Sam jumped to their feet and drew their guns. You would have done the same, except your gun was still in the kitchen. Rooky move, you knew, but the cabin was supposed to have been safe at least for another couple of days. And with Dick concentrating more on his digs none of you were expecting company. So, instead of making yourself an unarmed target, you stayed on the couch, pulling yourself to your knees so you could at least help look around the room.  
A figure appeared just behind and to the right of the couch. Sam and Dean aimed their guns at it. “Hey, hey, go easy, you idjits,” Bobby said. The brothers lowered their guns and allowed their shoulders to relax. “Sorry for the jump scare.”

“So how does this work, huh? Dean leaves the cap off and you just genie your way out?” you asked, folding your arms over the back of the couch and resting your chin on them.

Bobby snorted. “I wish it were that easy. The thing – ” He vanished before he got to finish his sentence and Dean threw his hands up in defeat.

“Bobby?” Sam called as he looked around again.

Bobby reappeared over by the round dining table. You turned and fell back onto your butt in the couch to face him. “Damn it. It’s hard to stay focused. I’m still kind of worn out.”

“You’ve been pretty busy for a dead guy,” Dean said. And you felt proud that he hadn’t snapped or growled it. You’d had many arguments with Dean over the way he’d been treating Bobby. You’d thought that you were just yelling at a brick wall, but the fact that he wasn’t getting angry proved that he was actually listening to you.

“All right. Listen,” Bobby said, “I – I don’t know how long before my next ghost nap, so let’s just skip to the skinny –   
those numbers I gave you.”

“The empty lot in Cheeseville?” Dean said.

“Yeah, well, it ain’t gonna be empty for long. I got a gander at Dick's big plan, right before he Lincolned me. They're breaking ground – what month is this?” Bobby looked at you.

You perked up. “Uh, April.”

Bobby sighed. “Ground’s broke,” he said. “They’re building as we’re yammering. Check it out yourself.” He nodded toward the lap top sitting on the table and you got up to investigate whether he was right or not. “It's all right. I mean, you guys missed it because you've been kind of busy killing ghosts the past few days. But Dick is about to get into the Soylent Green business.” He looked at you and said, “That site’ll show you they’re building a biotech lap, right?” You looked and realised that he was right. However, you’d manage to do some digging and found Geothrive’s slaughterhouse plans. “Biotech my ass,” Bobby said, “That sucker is a state-of-the-art slaughterhouse. And we’re the beef.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little bold, even for Dick?” Sam asked. You jumped when you heard his voice directly behind you.

“I bet you no one will even notice,” Bobby said, “’cause first, he’s gonna dumb us all down with Turducken-style munchies. Make us docile.”

Dean shook his head. “Yeah, but we haven’t been to Biggerson’s since that whole fiasco.”

“Biggerson’s? He’s bought a list of joints ten pages long.” Dean looked at you and you nodded, having the ten-page list right in front of you. “Next, he’s gonna cure us.”

“Of what?” you said.

“All the biggies – cancer, AIDS, heart disease. Let's just say they got an affinity for stem-cell research.”

“Didn’t you guys say something about Leviathan real-estate mooks building a cancer centre?” you said. Realisation dawned on Sam and Dean as they began connecting the dots. “Sounds like they stopped hunting and started engineering the perfect herd.”

“Exactly,” Bobby said, “Now, we've gone up against plenty liked to eat a few folk in the woods. This ain't that. This is about knocking us off the top of the food chain. This is about them Levis living here forever, one-percenter style, while we march our dopey, fat asses down to the shiny new death camps at every corner.”

Sam’s laptop beeped, cutting off whatever it was that Dean was about to say. It’s an email, from Bobby’s friend – or not so friend – Frank. “It’s an e-mail from Frank,” you said as you opened it.

“Frank’s alive?” Dean asked as he sat across from you.

“That jackass, always stealing my thunder,” Bobby muttered.

You ignored him and started reading the e-mail aloud. “Sam and Dean, if you’re reading this, I’m dead … or worse. This e-mail was sent because some prince is trying to hack into my hard drive right this second. So unless it’s you, you got trouble.” You shared a look with Sam before continuing. “My drive is full of compromising info. Your new aliases, hangouts, where you stored your car …”

“Baby?” Dean said, straightening in his seat.

You rolled your eyes. “Even though he encrypted the crap out of his drive, he says we should assume that someone can hack it eventually. He did put a tracking device in it.”

Dean scooted his chair around next to yours so he could see the laptop screen as you clicked on the ‘Hard Drive Tracker’ application that Frank had embedded in his email. A map showed up with a little pin right in the middle of Richard Roman Enterprises.

“Perfect,” you said, “It’s in the middle of the Death Star.” You let a cheery smile cross your face as you stood up. “All right, well, off to Chicago.”

Dean and Sam followed suit as you grabbed your coat from the couch and started putting your arms though the sleeves.

“No, wait, guys, you can’t just break in. They know your mugs,” Bobby said, “What if we mailed in the flask? Then I could ghost through the joint. I mean, it's not like Dick can kill me twice.” You, Dean and Sam all shared a look. “What, you got a better plan? Come on. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I don't know how to do my damn job.” You gave Sam a meaningful look. You weren’t going to be the one to break the news to him.

Sam sighed. “Bobby, that’s Dick’s office.”

You rolled your eyes and took a step forward when it became obvious that Sam wasn’t about to spell it out for Bobby. “I think what Sammy’s trying to say is what happens if you run into Dick and, you know … go vengeful. You know it’s not something you can just shake off.”

“Come on. Give me some credit. What, I’m supposed to just ride the pine?” Bobby snapped.

You flinched at his tone of voice. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to people getting angry at you, but it still hurt when it was someone that you cared about. You hadn’t known Bobby all that long, but like you’d said before, he’d been more of a father to you in the short time you’d known him, than your actually father had been your entire life.  
Dean knew that it hurt you to hear Bobby snap at you like that. How he knew, you weren’t entirely sure, but you had a feeling it had something to do with the need he’d had to make his own father proud. Either way, he came over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder in a show of comfort and silent support for what you’d said to Bobby.

“Sorry, Bobby,” Sam said. Then he shut his laptop and followed you and Dean out of the cabin.

****

You, Dean and Sam were waiting in an apartment. A red headed girl lived there. Her name was Charlie, from what you could gather from the internet, and based on what you’d seen of her through the web cam she wasn’t bad looking either. In fact, the more geeky memorabilia you found around her home, the hotter she seemed to get.  
You hear a door slam shut and Dean say, “It’s all right. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Get away from me, you … shapeshifter,” a girl’s voice said. You were guessing it was Charlie. You came around the corner to help, Sam following close behind.

“We’re not shapeshifters,” you said as you came up behind her. You didn’t realise she was holding a fake sword until she swung around and hit you with it. You only just managed to get your arm up to protect your face when she broke it on you. “Geez!”

Charlie looked at you then the broken sword woefully. Dean snatched it out of her hand with a frown on his face. His patience was already wearing thin. “Look, we’re not Leviathans, okay?” he said, “You want us to prove it? You know what borax does to them?” He holds up a clear bottle of the liquid in question.

“Yeah,” Charlie says as she backs herself into the door.

“Y/N,” Dean says. You hold out your hand for him and he poured the borax on it. Sam was next, and then Dean poured it on his own hand. “See? Your turn.” He handed her the bottle and she splashed some over her hand.  
She took a small step away from the door and straightened herself up. You could see her confidence grow as she realised she was dealing with humans. “Who the hell are you guys?” she said. You liked her already.

****

“So, you’re saying, you guys are monster hunters,” Charlie said as she came out of her room and into the living area. Sam was sitting in a chair by the coffee table and Dean was perched on the arm of her red couch opposite him. You slumped down onto one of the dining chairs just in front of Dean and kicked your feet up onto her table, pulling a handful of chips from the packet you’d rifled out of her pantry, and shoving them into your mouth. You choked on them a moment later when Dean leant forward and smacked you up the back of the head.

“What?” you said, looking back at him with a glare. “I’m hungry.” He said nothing, but he did give you a hard look that had you sighing and tossing the chips back onto the table.

Charlie ignored the exchange and said, “So, there are other monsters?” You opened your mouth to confirm her suspicions, but she waved dismissive hands at you. “Stop. Never mind. Just, shh.” You shrugged and snuck another chip out of the packet only to drop it a moment later when Dean kicked the leg of the chair that you were sitting on. “Okay,” Charlie said, “I get how you tracked the drive – straight GPS – but it’s still at the office. How did you find me?”

Sam cleared his throat and turned to his laptop, which was sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He opened it and hit the space bar so the screen would turn back on. Footage of Charlie at her desk popped up.

She threw her hands in the air. “Aw! Son of a gun jacked my webcam?”

“Welcome to Frank,” you said.

“It’s creepy, but I’ll give it to him. So you’re telling me everything he had on his drive is true,” Charlie said.

“That and more,” Dean answered.

“Wait,” you said as you stood up and went over to stand next to Charlie. “How long did it take you to crack into Frank’s drive?”

She shrugged. “A day or so.”

“Nice,” you laughed as you clapped a hand on her shoulder. “You know, I hacked into the Pentagon back in high school and changed their file names to star wars characters. The president’s was Darth Vader.”

“No way! Same!” Charlie exclaimed, giving you a high five.

“Wait. You’re a hacker? Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean asked. You looked at him and then Sam.

You shrugged at their incredulous looks. “The psychiatric ward didn’t allow me access to computers. I’m rusty. Been out of the game for years now. I doubt I could do much now.” You looked back at Charlie, she’d taken a huge step from you.

“You were in psych?” she said. “For what, exactly?”

Sam didn’t let you explain. “Is there anything you can’t hack into?” he asked Charlie.

“Not yet,” she replied defensively.

“How about Dick Roman’s e-mail?”

She frowned. “Why would I … Oh. He’s one of them.”

You snorted. “No. Uh, he’s their leader,” you said, going over to perch on the arm of the chair that Sam was in. His hand automatically moved to rest on your hip. Charlie didn’t miss it. You could guess what she was assuming, but the situation was too complicated to explain to her, and now wasn’t the time. For now, she could think whatever she wanted to.

“So what’s the end game – steal our resources, make us some slaves?” Charlie asked.

“Planet-wide value meal. We’re the meat,” Dean said.

Charlie smiled. “You can’t be serious.” None of you laughed, and the smile fell from her face. She looked scared but there was a determination in her eyes suddenly that made you like her even more. “Okay. All right. Let’s do this. What am I looking for?” She went over to the laptop she had sitting at the dining table on the opposite side of where you had being sitting a few minutes before.

“Well, for starters, uh, anything about archaeological dig sites,” Dean said.

“Like Indiana Jones stuff?” Charlie asked.

“All we know is that Dick has been digging all over the world, and we need to know what he’s looking for.”  
Charlie started tapping away at her keyboard, muttering quietly as she did do. “You know, I was having a really good week. I met someone, downloaded the new Robyn album. Everything was coming up me.” She paused for a moment. “Oh crap,” she sighed.

Sam said, “Look, we get it sucks –”

“No, not that. This. Dick’s e-mail isn’t on the company server. It’s on a private one, in his office.”

“Meaning?” Dean said.

“Can’t get in it unless you have his phone or you’re at his desk,” you explained.

“So you’re saying that if we’re inside Dick’s office, then we can hack into his e-mail?”

You smiled. “You can’t. Only someone like me or Charlie could. But, like I said, it’s been a while, I wouldn’t be able to   
get in and out quick enough.”

Sam and Dean looked at Charlie. She looked like a deer caught in headlights. She threw her hands up and said, “I sure as hell ain’t doing it. I am doing my job and … what are the chances I see everything on that drive and Dick lets me live anyway?”

Sam pressed his lips together. “I think you know.”

She said slowly, “So I erase the drive first, protect me and you. Then I go back to my old life, right?” You and Sam shared a look. “What?”

“It’s not that easy,” Dean said. He was leaning forward and using that voice he always used to sooth the victims of monsters. “You’re on Dick’s radar, which means you don’t have an old life anymore.”

“I’m gonna die,” she said resolutely. Then she sighed and her shoulders slumped. She looked annoyed. “I should have taken that job at Google.”

“Look, Charlie,” you started as you stood up and took a step towards the table, “it’s okay if you can’t do it. I mean, you didn’t volunteer for this. I might, at the very least, be able to send some info to Sam’s e-mail before Dick catches me in there anyway.”

Dean growled your name but both you and Charlie ignored him. “Totally,” she said. “Exactly. But now I volunteer.”

You smiled and Sam said, “What?”

She rolled her eyes. “I got to go back in anyways to wipe Frank's drive. Might as well break into Dick's office, too.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. But these things are gonna eat everyone I know. What kind of douchebag stands by for that? However, I have never broken into anything in real life before, so... plan?”

You heard Sam chuckle behind you and you couldn’t help but smile proudly at Charlie.

Dean stood up, admiration in his face as he asked Charlie if she had Bluetooth. She said yes and you went over to sit next to her, Sam and Dean joining the two of you.

“Can you get into the security system?” you asked.

She nodded. “I can reroute any surveillance cameras we need.”

“All right. Let’s start with that.”

****

You and Sam sat side by side in a cramped, black van outside of Richard Roman Enterprises. Sam’s arm was across the back of your chair and he was squished up against your side, barely giving you enough room to play around with Charlie’s laptop. Dean came in and asked how things were going then.

“Great,” you said, “since she set all this up. Look.” You brought up the building’s security footage, smiling slightly at the Arwen desktop. “See this? I can put each camera on a pre-recorded loop. Once I do that, she’ll have fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes ain’t a lot of time,” Dean said.

“No,” Sam said. “She said if it took longer to hack his desktop, then she deserved to be eaten.”

Dean chuckled. “I like her.”

“Ditto,” you said as you watched Charlie stand outside the building on the security footage.

“And you,” Dean growled, frowning at you. You went on the defensive immediately.

“Me? What the hell did I do?” you said.

“You were gonna go in there, knowing that you probably wouldn’t have come back out.”

“You would have gotten the information you needed.”

“I don’t care. We wouldn’t have had you.”

You paused for a moment; even Sam stopped looking at the footage to watch his brother. “Look,” you said. “There was never any risk, Dean. I knew that she was going to do it.”

“How?”

“The same way I know when Sam is upset. The same way I know if you’re too angry to let me near you. I’m just good at reading people, Dean.”

“Look,” Sam interrupted pointing at the security footage.

“What?” you and Dean snapped at the same time.

“Look at Charlie’s bag.” He zoomed in on her and Dean cussed under his breath. Bobby’s flask was in the side pocket of her duffel bag. The image was fuzzy and grey, but you’d seen the thing so many damn times that it was unmistakeable.

Sam said, “You really think Bobby would –”

“Hitch a ride after we told him to cool his jets?” Dean said. “Yeah. What the hell’s he thinking?”

“He's not. So what do we do – call the whole thing off?”

“We’ve only got one shot at this,” you said.

Dean sighed and called in to Charlie’s earpiece with his phone. She answered and he put it on speakerphone. You stifled a smile when you heard her singing under her breath.

“Charlie, it’s Dean. Are you singing?”

“I sing when I’m nervous. Don’t judge me.”

Dean smiled. “Judgment-free zone. Listen, uh, check the side pocket of your bag.”

You watched on the footage as she did what he said. “Oh. Thank you,” she said as she pulled the flask from the bag. She took a swig and you saw her cringe from the taste of whatever Dean’s flavour was that day. “Mmm. Good idea.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Dean said. “Look, that’s, uh, kind of a family heirloom. It’s a good-luck charm, okay, so don’t lose it.”

“Copy that. Okay. Let’s do this.” Despite those fighting words she stood rooted in place, arms folded.

“Uh, Charlie? Charlie?”

“I’m having a hard time moving,” she said, voice a little shaky.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed in irritation. “You can do this,” he said into the phone.

“Uh, I’m not – I’m not a spy. No, I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t,” she chants as she starts pacing back and forth. You can see that Dean is starting to lose his patience so you take the phone from him.

“Charlie, hey, it’s Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry. I – I just –”

“It’s okay. Uh, listen, w-who’s your favourite Harry Potter character?” you asked. Dean turned his head slowly to give   
you a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing look.

“Uh, Hermione,” Charlie said, a little thrown off by your question.

“Hermione. Same. Well, uh, did Hermione run when Sirius Black was in trouble or when Voldemort attacked Hogwarts?”

“Seriously?” Dean said.

You put your hand over the receiver and told him to shut up.

”No, of course not,” Charlie said.

”What did she do?”

“She kicked ass.” You smirked and nodded, giving Dean a smug look. “She actually saves Harry in practically every book. And then she ends up with the wrong –”

“Uh, stay on track,” you said. “Okay, so she kicked ass, right? So, then, what are you gonna do?”

She paused for a moment, and then said, as determined as ever, “I’m gonna kick it in the ass.”

You smiled. “Good girl.”

You handed Dean the phone back when Charlie started towards the front doors of the building. Sam was chuckling softly beside you as Dean said, “Oh, you go, dumble-dork.”

You punched him in the arm and the three of you watched as Charlie made her way through the first checkpoint at the entrance of the building, swiping her card. Then she got onto the elevator, swiped her card again and pushed the button that would take her up to floor four. She leans against one of the bars in the elevator, her foot tapping restlessly against the floor. Finally it slows to a stop and she steps out. You immediately hit a key on the laptop once she’s out of view of the camera to start playing the footage loop of the empty elevator. You can’t see her now, but if she was following the plan, than Charlie should be back on the elevator and swapping out the magnetic strip on her key card so she could get access to level eleven.

“I’m in,” you hear her say over the speaker of Dean’s phone. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

Dean rolled his eyes and replied, “You’re on the clock. Move.”

There’s silence for a while, and you think that by now she should be off the elevator and on the eleventh floor.  
“Hey,” she suddenly says. “There’s a big-ass guard up here, blocking the door. What do I do?”

“Just wait him out,” Dean said.

“He’s not going anywhere.”

“Okay, uh, you work there every day. Do you know the guy?”

“I guess. I mean, I’ve seen him. I’ve never talked to him.”

“Okay,” Dean says, sitting up straighter. You realised he’s on to something. “When you’ve seen him, does he look at you, or does he just kind of slide his eyes by?”

“Um ... eye contact? I don't know. He always kind of smiles a bit. I don't really –”

“Good. What you're gonna do is you're gonna walk right up to him, and you're gonna flirt your way past.”  
Dean smiled at you. He looked so proud of himself for coming up with that idea. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I can't. He's not my type.”

“You're gonna have to play through that.”

“As in he's not a girl.”

You laughed. “Nice.” Sam gave you an odd look and you shrugged your shoulders. “What? I play both teams.”

Dean put his hand over the receiver and leaned towards you. “Really?” he said.

“Ugh, don’t be a perv,” you said, pushing at his shoulder.

“Guys?” Charlie said.

“Right, uh, pretend he has boobs,” Dean said, leaning back in his seat, but his eyes lingered on you a moment. You rolled your eyes and looked at Sam. He looked away quickly and suddenly seemed very busy studying the loop of the vacant elevator.

“Worse,” Charlie said.

“Well, I don’t know. Um … Do you have any tattoos?” Dean smiled suddenly. “Give him a little sneak peek there. All   
tattoos are sexy.”

“Really?” you whispered. Dean straightened and looked you up and down, his mouth hanging open a little, obviously taking what you said to mean that you did have tattoos.

“You have tattoos?” Sam muttered to you. You cocked your eyebrow at him and he swallowed, turning back to the laptop screen.

“Mine is Princess Leia in a slave bikini straddling a 20-sided die,” Charlie said.

“Nice,” you laughed as Sam and Dean shared a look.

“I was drunk. It was Comic-Con.”

You took the phone out of Dean’s hand again and held the receiver closer to your mouth. “We’ve all been there, Charlie.”

“You have?” Dean said, leaning towards you again. You frown and put your hand on his face to push him back away from you.

“Okay, I’m gonna walk you through this.” You lean back in your chair and stretch your legs out. You hear Charlie   
sigh and open a door. “Start with a smile,” you said, trying to ignore the fact that Dean and Sam were both intently watching you. “Relax, Charlie. You just got home, and Scarlett Johansson's waiting for you.” She made an appreciative noise at that visual. You can hear the guard through the phone asking if there was anything Charlie needed help with. You start telling her what to say, and she repeats it.

“Hey … Bill. Charlie, from I.T.”

“Oh. Burning the midnight oil, huh?” you hear Bill say.

“Compliment his physique. Ask him if he works out,” you say.

“Just like you,” Charlie says to Bill, “I mean, when you’re not at the gym. What, do you work out with all your free   
time?”

“I try to get to the gym at least three days a week,” Bill said.

You tell Charlie to repeat everything you say, word for word, then say, “It shows. You look amazing.”

Charlie repeats it and you put your hand over the receiver as Dean gives you a look. “This never happened,” you whisper. You took your hand away and say into the phone, “Do you ever do anything else with your free time, like take a girl out for a drink?”

Sam starts laughing as Charlie repeats what you say again. “Stop laughing, Sammy,” you snap. Except you forget to cover the receiver and Charlie repeats that too.

She pauses and you feel dread rise up in your stomach. She thinks fast and tries to salvage it. “Um … y-you don’t know that bar – Stop Laughing Sammy?” Sam puts his hand over his mouth to try and stifle his laughter. “That place is brining sexy back. Which is easy ‘cause they kept the reciept–”

“Stop talking, Charlie,” you said when she started blabbering.

“Stop talking, Charlie,” she repeated. She pauses again, but pulls herself together a moment later. “Right. So, um, y – you were saying about going out. Drinks?”

You rest your forehead against the top of the phone, figuring you’d completely blown it. “Um … yeah. Yeah. That’d be great,” Bill said, and your head shot up at his answer. You hold your breath as Charlie continues to flirt her way through without your help.

“Cool. Pencil that in. Hey, can I ask you a favour? The ladies’ room downstairs is nasty. Can I use the exec washroom to powder my nose?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why not? Um, it’s right down the hall. It’s the first door on the right.”

You give Dean and Sam a triumphant smile and throw your hands out to the side.

“I feel dirty,” Charlie said suddenly, and you figured that she must be way past the guard now.

“You and me both, sister,” you said.

“The eagle is landing. Going radio-silent.”

“Let us know when you’re out.” You put the phone down on the bench next to the laptop.

“That was awesome,” Dean muttered.

You pretended you didn’t hear him and looked at Sam when he said, “So, guess we just wait?”

“Yeah,” you said.

After a few minutes Sam gets up and starts filling jars up with Power Clean. You and Dean kept monitoring the security footage to watch out for any new comers. At least ten minutes of Charlie’s fifteen had passed and Sam was still filling up jars when Dean said, “Well, this is awesome. You know what? New plan. From now on, we just stay in the van and send in the 90-pound girl.”

“Dean, every chomper on earth knows your and Sam’s faces. How many do you think are in that building? We wouldn't make it past the lobby,” you said. Sam rolled over to the two of you on his chair, placing a hand on your head in thanks for derailing his brother’s impatience.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said, “Doesn't mean I got to be happy about sending in freaking Veronica Mars.”

“She’ll be fine,” Sam said. “Or, we’ll go in.”

Dean looked at Sam. “And get as far as we can. Damn right.” Sam didn’t look to happy about that idea, but Dean didn’t seem to be worried about going on an impromptu suicide mission if things went sideways. You placed a hand on Sam’s bicep as you watched his face. He gave you a small smile and squeezed your thigh. He was all right, just nerves. At least, that’s what you thought he was trying to tell you.

“Hey, guys.” The three of you sat up and let out the breaths you’d all been holding at the sound of Charlie’s voice.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice steady so he didn’t let on that you were all concerned about whether or not she would actually make it out.

“Sending you all the flagged dig files now,” Charlie said.

“Charlie, you are a genius,” Sam laughed.

“I know. It’s a problem.” And you could hear the smile in her voice. “Damn it,” she said suddenly. “Hey, Pete! Guess we're both on deadline, huh?”

You heard another voice come over the speaker. It was male. “How's it going?”

“Good, good,” Charlie said, “I'll give you a full progress report in a few hours.”

“Great. Hit that deadline, right?” There’s a pause and then he says, “Well, holler if you need anything.”

A few moments go pass before Charlie sighs and says, “Hey, guys, you still there?”

“Yeah. What the hell was that?” Dean said.

“Oh, just my manager, the monster.”

“Leave.”

“I can't. I got to act normal. I told him I was working. Let's just finish this.”

Your eyebrows raise and you blow out a breath as you scoot in closer to Charlie’s laptop and open up her e-mail.  
“Are you seeing this?” she said. Files began opening up on the desktop and you realised that she’d hacked her own computer and was controlling the mouse.

“It looks like Dick stopped digging days ago,” Sam said.

“Why?” Charlie asked.

“Guess he found what he was looking for. Can you check?” you said.

“Way ahead of you. Looking at travel reports, expenses ... Here we go. Something in his suitcase left Iran last week. Spent the last seventy-two hours in armoured cars and private planes. Whatever it is, it's coming here for Dick tonight. So, w-what the hell is it?”

“I don't know,” Dean said, “Whatever it is, he wants it bad, which means we got to grab it, end of story.”

“Well, it's landing at a private airport near here – crap – right about now. A courier's set to pick it up.”

“What's the exact landing time?” you ask.

“Forty two minutes. Can you make it?”

You brought up google maps and tracked how long it would take to get from Richard Roman Enterprises to Downey Airport. “We can try. Uh, all right, Charlie, one more favour, and then get the hell out of there.”  
“What do you need?” Sam and Dean give you odd looks but you tell them that you have a plan and tell Charlie that you need more time.   
“Then let’s get you some,” she says. You hear her start tapping away at her keyboard. “Travel department's e-mailing Dick. Suitcase still en route, but diverted by weather and will be 30 minutes late.” Dean nods in approval at her tactic. “I'll finish mopping you guys off the drive and get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Call us when you're clear,” Dean said.

“Text you from the border, bro.”

****

You’re waiting beside an old, white car just outside the airport. Your foot is tapping against the ground as you wait impatiently for Dean and Sam. They were inside a nearby hanger doing an old switch-a-roo with Dick’s case. It being your plan, you’d wanted to go in there and do it, but both Sam and Dean had insisted against it. Something about straight men always getting distracted by women but looking right past men. When you argued eventually Dean said, “You’re hot. Dick’s henchman is gonna want to hit on you. It’s in a mans nature.” You were so dumbfounded at his explanation that you just stared at them stupidly until they left in their high vis vests and silly hats and glasses.

You sighed in relief when you saw them come out of the hangar, case in hand, and make their way over to you. You popped the boot of the car and Sam placed the case in there, glancing back over to the hangar to make sure that no one had noticed them.

“So now what?” Sam says after he and Dean strip out of the vests, hats, glasses and ear muffs, throwing them into the boot.

“See what we've won,” Dean said.

You reach forward and flicked open the clamps of the grey case and opened it. There’s a large rectangular object nestled inside it and wrapped in an old, dirty cloth. You lifted the cloth and found a slab of clay. “Did we just... steal a – a hunk of red clay?” you said.

“That's a good question,” Dean said. “Why don't we answer that a few thousand miles away from here, though? Now where is Charlie?”

****

You’d tried Charlie’s cell, and when that rang through to voice mail, you, Dean and Sam rushed back to Richard Roman Enterprises. The front glass doors were shattered, but still standing. You flew out of the car before it even stopped, bottle of borax in hand, Dean and Sam following close behind. You launched yourself at one side of the double doors at full speed, rolling to your feet when you went straight through it and hit the ground. Dean did the same to the other side and Sam came running in after him. Charlie was on the floor by the door just behind you, she was cradling her right arm. There was a man on his knees in front of her. Dick was about five meters in front of you, and there was a security guard rushing around his desk to the left to come at Dean.

“Y/N,” Charlie shouted. You looked at her, and she nodded at the man kneeling in front of her. “He's one of them!”  
You unscrewed the lid of the borax, turned to the man, and splashed it into his face. Dean took down the security guard as the man in front of Charlie collapsed to the ground screaming. His face sizzled and a greenish looking smoke wafted through his fingers as he held his hands to his face. Sam ran past you and picked Charlie up in his arms, she was still cradling her arm. You figured she must have broken it.

“That would explain it,” Dick said as he eyed Charlie. “You’re hanging with the wrong crowd, kiddo.” He advanced on the three of you and you all backed up towards the door, but suddenly he goes flying backwards and slams into the sign behind him, crumpling to the floor. You all stopped and stared as Bobby appeared just ahead of you. He turned and looked at the four of you before disappearing again as Dick growled and pushed himself into a seating   
position.

He smiled, eyes searching the entrance as he growled, “All right, enough! Show yourself. Let's do this like real monsters.” He tried to stand up but got shoved back down again. He threw his head back and let out a dramatic laugh. “You got to do that again. That tickled.”

“Guys, come on. Come on,” you said as you turned and rushed out, what used to be, the door.

****

Dean sped down a dark road in his Impala. You weren’t exactly sure where you guys were, but you hoped you were miles away from Dick. That was the first time you’d seen him in person, and despite all his smiles and sickly charm, he was terrifying as hell. You were sitting in the back seat with Charlie while Sam rode shot gun. “Charlie, talk to me. You okay?” you said.

“No. Why didn't you kill him?”

Sam piped up from the front. “'Cause we can't yet. But we will.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “The really evil ones always need a special sword.” She began looking woozy and her eyes started to close as she slid towards you. “Oh, okay. I'm gonna pass out now.” You scooted back a little and let her lay her head down in your lap. You stroked your fingers through her hair and watched as her grip on her broken arm loosened when she finally went unconscious.

****

“Thanks,” you said as a man held open the door of the bus terminal for you. Charlie was behind you, her arm set and in a sling. Sam and Dean were close behind.

“I left your dumb flask on the back seat, by the way. Worst good-luck charm ever,” Charlie told Dean.

You smiled and handed her the duffel bag.

Sam tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans and said, “So listen, um, we can't thank you enough.”

“Actually, you can,” she said, and you coughed to hide your laugh. “Never contact me again, like, ever. Deal?” She looked at you. “Except for you. You can call me whenever you like.”

You cocked an eyebrow and smiled at her, ignoring the looks that Sam and Dean gave you. She shook hands with them both and Dean said, “Keep your head down out there, okay?”

She shrugged. “This ain't the first time I've disappeared. You think my name is really Charlie Bradbury? Please. So, good luck saving the world.” She raised her hand in a Vulcan salute and said, “Peace out, bitches.”

You and Sam laugh but Dean just looks dumbfounded. “She's kind of like the little sister I never wanted,” he said.

“We got to talk,” Sam said.

The three of you started walking back to the Impala, and you could feel the dread start to swell up at the impending fight that was bound to come.

“What, you mean before we get back to the car and the flask?” Dean said.

“Exactly. So, what the hell happened back in the lobby, Dean?”

“Man, if I had a free shot, I'd have bitch-slapped the hell out of Dick too.”

Sam stopped and turned to face his brother. “Yeah, but, I mean, Charlie got her freaking arm broken.”

“He didn't mean to do it.” You gave Dean a surprised look. After everything that had happened, he was the last person you expected to defend Bobby.

“Exactly. He's not in control, not about Dick. That was vengeful-spirit crap,” Sam said.

“I know. But it's still Bobby.”

“But if he really goes there, he won't be anymore, and then we won't be able to pull him back. And then what are   
we supposed to do?”

“I know. Look, let's just figure out what that thing we stole is, and then we'll figure out what the hell to do with Bobby.” Again, you were surprised that Dean was being calm and reasonable rather than getting angry right back at Sam. When Sam says nothing, Dean raises his eyebrows and then walks off. You glance at Sam and go to follow, but he stops you.

“Wait. I want to talk to you too.”

“About what?” you asked.

“About what happened to you. When you were a kid, I mean.”

You sighed and scratched at the back of your neck. You’d been wondering when he’d bring that up. “I’m not going into it Sam.”

“No, of course … I, uh, I get it. I just … are you okay? I mean –”

“Am I all there?” you ask, tapping a finger to your temple. He gave you a disapproving look but you smiled right back at him. “I’m fine, Sammy. Look, what happened it-it sucked, but I can’t change it now. Yeah, I still have nightmares, I still get flashbacks. And sometimes, I even still feel the pain where he … but, I had enough therapy in that damn institute. I’m as good as I’m ever gonna be.”

Sam nodded, his eyebrow furrowed in that puppy dog look he always got when he was feeling empathetic or sympathetic. “Okay, uh, how do you know Cas? You seemed to recognise him when he showed up back at the ward.”

You shrugged. “He helped me out when I was a kid. When my dad would … I would pray, you know? And one day he showed up. He was like a guardian angel, I guess. Things started happening around the house whenever my dad tried to hurt me. Lights exploding, the house shaking like there was an earthquake. He’d get pushed or feel like he couldn’t breath. My mum thought the house was haunted, and my dad freaked out. I don’t think Cas meant to get me put into the institute, but he did the best he could do, and I’m grateful. But, when I ended up there, it was like he just disappeared off the face of the planet. Complete radio-silence. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”

“Yeah, he, uh, he does that sometimes. I’m glad he helped you. And if you need –”

“No. I won’t come to you, Sam. Or Dean. I’m not broken. I don’t need a shoulder to cry on. I just want to live my life, no matter how crazy and supernatural it is, and I want to put all of that other crap behind me. Got it?”

He didn’t exactly seem happy about it, but he respected your wishes and promised that he wouldn’t talk about what happened to you. He ruffled your hair suddenly and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, steering you towards the car and Dean.


	9. The Hero Of The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After successfully stealing Dick’s case, you, Dean and Sam finally break open the clay casing inside to reveal the inscribed tablet that he’d gone through so much effort to find. The discovery of the tablet brings about far more than the three of you ever thought possible. A new prophet emerges and thrown blindly into the deep end, Castiel finally wakes up, though he isn’t exactly all there, and members of his old garrison start making trouble for you and the Winchesters. Despite all this, your primary problem is Castiel, and getting the answers that you needed from him. Like why did he leave you all those years ago?

Helping Dean lug in equipment, duffel bags and Dick’s case into an old, rundown warehouse with broken windows wasn’t your idea of a perfect night, but it was certainly a step up from what you were used to. Sam had opted out of the heavy lifting and was sitting on the windowsill of one of the broken windows, his laptop in his lap. He said he was doing research on whatever was in Dick’s case, but you knew he was just trying to get out of setting everything up, hell, the clay hadn’t even been cracked yet, Sam had no idea what he was supposed to be researching anyway.

Eventually you and Dean get done, and Sam decides that that’s the moment he’s done fiddling with his laptop. He comes to stand by you and Dean at the table where the case was resting. Dean opens it, unwraps the clay slab and takes it out of the case to rest it on the table.

“That’s a lot of fuss over a caveman Lego,” you say. Dean opens up the toolbox that’s sitting on the table and starts rifling through it.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Well, whatever Dick wants is bricked up inside that.”

Dean takes a mallet out of the toolbox and hands you and Sam safety glasses before putting his own on. He twirls the mallet in his hand a few times, considers the slab and then places his hand on it to steady it. “All right.” He hits it once, just enough to chip it, and thunder sounds off in the distance. He looks at you and Sam, then hits it again, harder. This time lightning flashes and the thunder sounds closer. “That sound like somebody saying, ‘no, wait – stop,’ to you?”

“Uh.” You look back down at the slab. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Dean stares back down at the slab as well, Sam is a solid wall at your back. Then, in Dean fashion, he shrugs and says, “Oh, well.” He begins hammering at the slab again, and it’s minutes before it finally starts falling apart to reveal an inscribed stone tablet. Dean steps back once he’s done and you reach out and gingerly pick it up. You know it’s made out of stone, but it’s surprisingly light in your hands. You brush off the dust and turn it over, there’s inscribing on the back of it as well.

“It looks like hieroglyphics,” you say.

“Like Egypt?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, but, these aren’t Egyptian.”

****

You’re exhausted, worn out, you could do with a few days good sleep. The problem is you couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard you tried. Sam was passed out on the floor next to Dean, who had just woken up and was wiping his eyes as he pulled himself to his feet. You glanced at him as he headed over to the industrial sink to wash his face, but soon focused your attention back to the online news channel that you were watching. A reporter was talking about the continent-wide storm that had appeared out of nowhere last night. He’d even enlisted a doctor of the U.S Meteorological Survey to try and explain things, but he’d just insisted that he was offended the storm had chosen to act out of character, as though it were a damn person.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice, he was standing right by you and watching you intently. You were sure you looked as tired as you felt.

You shook your head and looked back at the laptop screen. “No. I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

“Since Cas?” You frowned up at him and he shrugged, slinging the washcloth he’d used to dry his face over his shoulder and tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Sam told me how you knew him.”

You sighed and, once again, tried to watch the news. “Do you guys always talk about me when I’m not around?”

“Sometimes. Mostly when we think something’s up.”

“Oh yeah? And what exactly do you think is up?”

“I think seeing Cas brought back a lot of memories. Maybe you thought you’d buried some of those memories. I never would have noticed, except, Sam said you slept like a log back at the psych ward, now you barely sleep at all.”

“Yeah, well, shit happens.”

“Y/N –”

“Dean, I told Sam that I wasn’t going to talk about it with him. Now I’m telling you the same thing.”

“Well tough,” he growled. “I’m not Sam. If you’re dealing with crap than you better tell us, or so help me God I’ll –” The sound of a metal cup dragging across the table cut him off. It was moving on it’s own. Dean looked around. “Bobby? Bobby, that you?”

The sound of the EMF meter caught your attention, and you held it up to show Dean. “Think so. But that whole adventure at Roman’s seems to have drained his batteries.”

Dean nods and turned back to you, looking ready to continue his verbal flaying of your ass, but he stopped when Sam groaned and sat up with a stretch that cracked his back. Dean gave you a look that promised a future fight, then gestured at the laptop and said, so Sam would hear, “So, what? We start the storm heard ‘round the world?”

You nodded and played along with him, tapping the tablet by the laptop as you said, “When we broke this thing open last night, every maternity ward within a hundred-mile radius got slammed. Looks like any woman in the last month of her pregnancy went into labour.”

“Hmm,” Dean huffed as he picked up the tablet and inspected it. Sam came up and leaned over you so he could see all the news site windows that you had open. “This one goes out to all the ladies. So, heavyweight signs, omens – what do we got?”

You shook your head and looked at the tablet in Dean’s hands. “I assume it’s writing. But I’ve never seen anything like it, ever. And it doesn’t match anything in any book or online.”

“All right, so big daddy chomper lands here, he grabs himself some Dick,” you roll your eyes at the joke, “and then he starts secretly underwriting university departments, pouring money into digs – all for this. Why?”

“No clue,” you answered as you closed the laptop and stood up. “We do know that he will be tearing new ones until he gets it back, though. Look, we got to take a minute, hole up somewhere safe, find out what we’ve got.”

“Rufus’ cabin, then?” You and Sam both nod and Dean heads over to the canvas he’d been sleeping on, pointing a finger at his brother. “This time, I’m doing the shopping.”

Sam starts helping you pack up the table when his phone rings. “It’s Meg,” he says before answering it. Dean comes back to stand next to you. “What? Cas is awake.”

“When?” you demanded, taking a step towards him. Sam puts Meg on speaker and you repeat the question.

“Last night about eight,” she says.

“And you waited till now to call us?” Dean growled.

“I’ve been busy with Cas. He’s just a tad different than when he dozed off, 'kay?”

“What do you mean, different?”

“Hey, Seacrest, guess what – not a nurse. Just playing one on TV. Want answers? Start driving.” Dean rolled his eyes as she hung up.

“Great,” Sam says. “So, Indiana?”

“Yeah. Eight o’clock last night,” Dean says.

“Yeah. Same time we opened up that thing.”

“Awesome. Come on Seacrest. Let’s pack up and hit the road.” You smile and pat Dean on the chest before heading over to roll up the canvas beds.

****

You’re making your way through the halls of the same institute you’d broken out of with Sam and Dean what seemed like years ago. You couldn’t say that you were happy to be back in the place, but your worst memories didn’t come from there either. You managed to knock it all into the back of your mind though, Cas’s wellbeing was first and foremost. You could hear Dean and Sam talking quietly behind you, you could tell that they didn’t want you to hear whatever they were saying, and you didn’t try and listen, you were worried that they were talking about whether or not Cas was still all there.

An orderly stopped you in your place just before you reached Sam’s old room where Cas was staying. Your anger flared up and you almost punched him when he said it was way past visiting hours. Luckily Meg came out of Cas’s room at that moment and said that she was expecting the three of you.

“Hello, boys,” she said. Then she looked at you and cocked her eyebrow. “And girl. Have to admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be a Brady in the bunch.”

“Just take me to Cassie.” You hadn’t meant to snap at her, but you were getting more anxious by the second.

She smiled. “Relax. You’ll see lover boy soon enough.” She turned on her heel and lead you, Dean and Cas to the room she’d just come out of.

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw Cas. He was standing by the window in his trench coat, his back was to you. You swallowed and tried to pull yourself together. You told yourself that there was a chance he wouldn’t be the Cas you knew, and you had to prepare for that. “Hey, Cassie,” you said softly, taking a tentative step forward and letting your fingers brush against the end of his bed.

It took him a moment, but finally he turned and faced you. He wore a soft smile as he looked at you, but otherwise you couldn’t tell if anything was off about him. “Y/N,” he said, his tone just as soft as yours. Suddenly he looked behind you, as though he’d only just realised that there were other people in the room. “Hello, Dean. Sam.”

“Hey, Castiel,” Sam breathed with a smile.

“Look at you, walkin’ and talkin’,” Dean said. “That’s – that’s great, right?”

Castiel’s eyes slid away from the brother’s at your back and landed on you again. He walked slowly over to you and you felt your lips curl up in a smile. Hope was beginning to rise up in your chest. Suddenly he held his hand up and pointed his finger at you. “Pull my finger,” he says.

The smile fell from your face and you looked at his finger, then back at him. “What?”

“My finger – pull it.”

You look at his finger again and glance at Sam and Dean behind you. Dean shrugs so you do what Cas said, a pull his fingers. There’s a crash as the lights blow and the window shatters. Silence, and then Cas laughs.

****

Light floods the room again as Meg screws a new bulb onto one of the lamps. You’re sitting on the bed next to Sam, and it felt so familiar. By the large hand on your thigh, it seemed as though Sam was reminiscing of the time he’s spent here with you as well. Dean was standing up, giving Cas an odd look. “Okay, just hang on, Cas. Wait. Let us catch up to you for a second,” he says.

“So, you’re saying you remember who you are, what you are,” Sam says next.

“Yes. Of course,” Cas says. He turns to you suddenly, excitedly. “Oh. Outside today, in the garden, I followed a honeybee. I saw the route of flowers. It’s all right there, the whole plan. There’s nothing to add.”

“You might want to add a little Thorazine,” you deadpan.

“Right?” Meg says. “He’s been like the naked guy at the rave ever since he woke up. Totally useless.”

Cas smiles at Meg. “Will you look at her? My caretaker. All of that thorny pain. So beautiful.”

“We’ve been over this. I don’t like poetry. Put up or shut up.”

Cas tilts his head like he doesn’t understand what she means, but the smile is still on his face.

“Okay,” you say, patting Sam’s thigh as you stand up and grab the open duffel bag that had been resting behind you; the tablet was sitting on top. “So, Cassie, you said you woke up last night?”

“Yes. I heard a ping that pierced me, and, well, you wouldn’t have heard it unless you were an angel at the time. Of course, I would still consider you an angel in the metaphorical sense.”

You gave him a mock laugh as you walked over and handed the beg out too him. “Charming. That’s also when we opened this.”

“Oh. Of course. Now I understand,” he says, smile still intact as he pulled the tablet from the bag.

“Understand what?” Sam asks.

“You were the ones. Well… I guess that makes sense.”

“What makes sense?” Dean asks next.

“If someone was going to free the Word from the vault of the earth, it would end up being you two.” He pulled the brothers into a hug, Dean protesting the entire time as the patted his back in return. “Oh, I love you guys.”

“I helped,” you muttered under your breath as you rolled your eyes at the three of them. Cas turned to you, his smile softening. He was about as far into your personal space as anyone could get. He reached up and touched his fingers to your jaw. “My little angel,” he whispered. “I’m not surprised that you found your way to the Winchesters. You were always so special to me. The only one that I ever broke regulations for.”

“Regulations?” you asked.

“I was never allowed to leave heaven when I came to you. None of the angels were.” His face started to harden and the room began shaking. Meg put out a hand to catch the lamp before it fell. “But when I saw what that man did to you. How he hurt you. How you cried out for us every night –”

“Cassie,” you snapped. Then your voice softened and you reached out to cup his face in your hands. You smiled at him. The way you always used to smile at him when he visited you as a child. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here now. No one has hurt me in a long time. No one ever will again.” You rubbed your thumbs against his cheek and he smiled at you again. “Now, you said something about ‘the word’? Is that what’s written on the tablet?”

“Did you know that a cat’s penis is sharply barbed along its shaft? I know for a fact the females were not consulted about that.” He turned from you after giving you that very informative, yet irrelevant, answer. You sighed and gave Dean an I-give-up shrug.

He stepped forward and said, “Cas, please, we’re losing ground out there, okay? We need your help. Can you not see that?”

For a moment, Cas doesn’t answer, rather he just inspects the tablet. Then he mutters, “This is the handwriting of Metatron.”

“Metatron?” Sam snapped. “You saying a Transformer wrote that?”

“No. That’s Megatron,” you say, surprisingly reasonable considering the hassle Cas was giving the three of you.

“What?” Sam snapped at you.

“The transformer – it’s Megatron.”

He looked at you incredulously, then snapped, “What?” again.

“Metatron.” Cas sounded out the syllables for Sam’s benefit. “He’s an angel. He’s the scribe of God. He took down dictation when creation was being formed.”

“And that’s the Word of God?” Sam asked, calmer now that he didn’t think Transformer’s were real.

“One of them, yes.”

“Uh… Well, what’s it say, then?”

Cas inspects the tablet again. Holding it at arm’s length and squinting as though he needed glasses. “Uh… Tree?” He looked at Sam and Dean, when they just looked back expectantly he turned his eyes back to the tablet and said, “Horse? Fiddler crab? I can’t read it. It wasn’t meant for angels.”

Meg stepped forward from the corner and piped up. “Okay, this all sounds bad. What are you two jackasses doing with the Word of God? Let me see that thing.” She headed over to Cas and tried to grab a hold of the tablet.

Dean stepped forward immediately and said, “Back off, Meg.”

“Come on, it’s my ass, too,” she reasoned.

“Back off,” he growled.

“Damn it! Enough of this “demons are second-class citizens” crap!”

“Don’t like conflict,” Cas suddenly said. Then he disappeared. Poof. Into thin air. Being as courteous as he was though, he left the tablet behind. Of course, he didn’t actually give it to anyone, rather just let it fall and smash into three pieces on the ground.

“Uh…” Sam says dumbly, staring down at the Word of God.

“What the hell was that?” you say.

“You heard him,” Meg says as she turns to you. “He doesn’t like conflict. He’s down in the dayroom now. I guarantee it.”

You rub a hand over your eyes in a tired manner. “All right, I’ll go handle Cas. Sam, will you please pick up the Word of God?”

You leave before any of them argue.

****

You find Cas in the dayroom where Meg said he would be. He’s sitting with his back to you when you walk in, at the table that you and Sam always used to sit at together. You wonder if Cas chose to sit there because of that. You know it must be ridiculous, that Cas could know that that was your and Sam’s table, but what if it was true? What if every now and then he popped in to see you, to make sure you were doing okay, but he just never let you know he was there. It was almost too much to hope for, so you didn’t hope.

Drawing in a deep breath you walk over and stand on the opposite side of the table to him, right in front of the chair you always used to sit in. He looked up at you and all of a sudden you felt angry at him. And ecstatic all at the same time. After everything he had done for you, everything he had seen, and then he just disappeared. Now here he was, not at all the same Castiel that you knew, but he treated you as if he’d never left.

You could feel your jaw tick, so you pulled yourself together and calmly said, “You realize you just broke God’s Word?”

You mustn’t have sounded as calm as you’d hoped, ‘cause he looked away from you with an annoyed little tick at the corner of his mouth. You remembered that Meg said he didn’t like confrontation. God, the Cas you knew wasn’t afraid to get his hands bloody for the good of the cause. What happened to him?

You took another deep breath and sat down in the chair. Your chair. You even managed to force the scowl off your face and replace it with a pleasantly neutral look. He looked back at you and his face softened at your efforts.

“It’s Sam’s thing, isn’t it?” you said. “You taking on his, uh, cage-match scars. I’m guessing that’s what broke your bank, right?”

“Well, it took… everything to get me here.” He was smiling again. And you realised suddenly just how much you’d missed his smile. You felt yourself soften even more under it, and you felt like a little girl all over again. It was throwing you through a loop and you were finding it difficult to know how to behave around him.

“What are you talking about, Cassie?”

His brow furrowed in concern, and you felt your eyes start to well up. It had been so long. And the longer you sat there and looked at him, the younger you felt, the more memories that kept coming back. The man in front of you once cradled you in his arms while you cried and listened to your father yell and pound on your bedroom door. He once took you to the stone henges for a night and chased you around them until, laughing until your stomach hurt. You were so young, and even though your innocence had been torn away from you long before you met him, he’d still managed to give you some semblance of a child hood. So why had he disappeared? Why did he leave you all alone?

“Y/N, I know you want different answers,” he said.

You felt your bottom lip quiver. “Why did you leave me?” Your voice came out strained. You were trying so hard not to cry. He just kept giving you that stupid look. Like he was completely and utterly unaffected by you. Like there was nothing in his head, but you could still see the Cas you knew behind his eyes. “Do you even remember what happened to me? Do you remember me? Do you remember freeing the Leviathans? Anything, anything at all?”

He picked up a board game sitting next to him and held it up so you could see it. It was Sorry!. He shook it once and the board, along with all the pieces, appear on the table between the two of you all set up. He put the box aside and said, “Do you want to go first?”

****

For fifteen minutes you’d been playing the damn board game, and you were getting impatient again. You picked up a Sorry! card, barely glancing at it. You think you have to move five squares, so you do.

“You know, we weren’t sure at first which monkeys were gonna make it,” Cas says in a conversational manner. “No offense, but I was backing the Neanderthals because their poetry was… just amazing.” Cas picked up his own card and then moved his marker. “It’s in perfect tune with the spheres. But in the end, it was you – the homo sapiens sapiens. You guys ate the apple, invented pants.”

“Cassie, where did you go? After my mother dumped me here, you were just gone. You weren’t even there when she …” You licked your lips and tried again. “When she …” You made a frustrated sound and yanked up your sleeve, holding your arm out to Cas so he could see the jagged scar that ran up the length of your inner forearm. “When she did this, Cassie.”

“I’m sorry. I – I think you have to go back to start,” he said. You sighed and let your arm fall back to the table. You moved your marker anyway, but you slammed it down so he knew just how much you didn’t want to move the marker.

“Please,” you pleaded. He motioned at the deck of cards. You picked one up, glanced at it, and moved another marker.

“You know what. Fine. If you won’t talk about that, then can you at least talk about Metatron?” He picked another card up and moved a marker, but he didn’t answer you. “Is he alive? Where can we find him?” He picked up another card. You couldn’t remember if he was allowed too, you’d never played the game before. “Cassie, Metatron could stop a lot of bad. You understand that?”

He showed you the card he picked up. It had Sorry! scrawled across it. “We live in a “sorry” universe,” he said, then he put the card down and moved another marker. “It’s engineered to create conflict. I mean, why should I prosper from… your misfortune?” He moved one of your markers back to the start. “But these are the rules. I didn’t make them.”

“You know, I heard you made some of them. When you tried to become God, when you cut that hole into that wall. And you broke plenty of them when you came to me all those years ago.” Your anger was flaring up again. Who cared if he didn’t like conflict. Even if you had to chain him to that damn chair, to Sam’s chair, he was very well gonna experience some damn conflict.

He gave you a serious look. “Y/N …” you looked at him expectantly, maybe you’d finally broken through and he was going to tell you everything you needed to know. You’d never been more wrong in your life. He nodded at the board and said, “It’s your move.”

You slammed your fist on the table and swiped the board and it’s contents to the floor. “Forget the damn game!” He leaned back from you slightly and dropped his chin to his chest to look at where his hands were folded in his lap. You felt tears well up again at his submissive, childish demeanour. He looked just like you did when your father started drinking and taking off his belt. You pushed your fingers through your hair and tugged at it, hoping the pain would rid you of the memory. “Forget the game, Cassie,” you said softly.

He looked up at you slowly when he realised you’d calmed down. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You shook your head and bit your inner cheek to stop the tears from falling. You felt like you didn’t know him anymore. “No,” you said. “No. You're playing Sorry!”

He said nothing to that, just stood up from the chair, crouched to the floor and started picking up the game board pieces, one by one. You studied him, trying desperately to find some semblance of your Cassie. Then he stopped and looked up to the ceiling.

“What?” you asked.

He looked at you and smiled. “Sam. He’s talking to angels.”

****

You sliced a blade along your palm while Cas talked with the angels in Sam’s – Cas’s – room. They were shocked that he was alive, no doubt, but you figured that was going to be the running consensus for a while. Apparently, though, the angel’s had more to be concerned about, turned out that Cas had ‘smote thousands in Heaven’, then given a big, scary speech and disappeared.

You dipped your fingers into the blood that was pooling in the palm of your hand and began drawing an angel banishing sigil on the wall outside of Cas’s room. He admitted that he’d been rude – the understatement of the century – and a male angel asked him where he’d been.

“Oh, Inais. Hester,” he said, “I… I know you want something – answers. I… I wish it could be that… There are still many things I can teach you. I can offer, um, well, perspective. Here. Pull my finger.” You pressed your lips together so you wouldn’t laugh at the look the angels must have on their faces. “Uh… Uh… Meg will – will get another light, and I’ll – I’ll blow it out again. And, well, this time, it’ll be funny, and – and we’ll all look back and laugh.”

“You’re insane,” the woman – Hester – said.

“Hey,” you growled as you stepped into the doorway. “Heads up, Sunshine.” You slammed your bloody palm against the sigil. There was a blinding white light, and when it dies down all the angels in the room were gone, even Castiel. You didn’t let yourself mourn his loss again, didn’t think about when you would get a chance to see him again. You just stepped farther into the room, determined as ever, and glanced at the boy sitting on the bed clutching the duffel bag to his chest. You didn’t ask.

“All angels blown back to their corners. We got like three, four hours tops,” you said.

Sam pointed at Meg and you realised that she had an angel blade in her hand. “Meg, where did you get that?” he asked.

“A lot of angels died this year,” she explained.

Then, out of nowhere, the boy began screaming at the top of his lungs, “What’s happening?! What’s happening?!”

Now you had to ask. “What is that?”

Dean gave you a guilty look. “It’s, uh… Kevin Tran. He’s, uh, in advanced placement.”

****

Kevin was still sitting on the bed, his rocking had lessened, but now he had the duffel bag open and was rubbing it, rather affectionately, with his thumb. Sam was sitting in the chair by the bed, the one you had sat in so many times before when you’d snuck into Sam’s room after hours. You were sitting on the window sill near him.

“So, these Leviathans – these monsters are real,” Kevin said. “And angels with wings?”

“No. Uh… no wings. No anything,” Dean said as he came over and sat next to you.

You smirked and said, “No junk. Junkless. So, Kevin, you can, uh, read the chicken scratch on the God rock, huh?”

“Uh, I …” Kevin stuttered.

“That is back in one piece, I see. And you’re saying that there’s some sort of a “How to punch Dick” recipe in there somewhere?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re saying, but it seems kind of like an “in case of emergency” note. What did they mean by “prophet”?”

“Oh, no,” you groaned. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what the angel said.”

“I don’t want to be a prophet,” Kevin said.

“No. You don’t at all,” Dean said.

Meg stepped forward, a little too close to Dean for his comfort. “Gentlemen, we’ve got to start running and hiding. Or do you want to tangle with those wing nuts twice?”

“I’m sorry. Did you say “we”?”

“I’m on the angels’ radar now. You think I don’t need a little safety in numbers?”

You elbowed Dean in the ribs and cocked your eyebrow at him when he looked at you. He sighed. “All right, we’ll go to Rufus’ cabin. Kid can do his book report there.”

****

You helped Sam gather together an armful of provisions in the service station. Kevin was asleep in the back of a stolen forby, Dean was pumping gas and Meg had just went outside to read a magazine after rolling her eyes at you for almost walking into her.

“Cheery,” you muttered once she was out of earshot.

“Yeah, I’d watch out for her. We can’t tell what she wants anymore,” Sam said as he dumped his armful of provisions onto the counter for the cashier to ring it all up.

Sam chuckled and you looked up at him. “What?”

“Have you been in Dean’s chocolate stash?”

“No,” you said defensively, and not at all convincingly.

“Really?” Sam said. “’Cause, uh …” He reached up and rubbed a thumb along the corner of your mouth, pulling it back to show you the chocolate smudged on the end of it. He was smiling at you.

You gave him a guilty smile back before grabbing his wrist and wrapping your lips around the tip of his thumb. Your teeth scraped against the pad as you licked the chocolate off. Mortified, you suddenly realised what you were doing and pulled away, a blush creeping along your cheeks as tried to keep the smile off your face.

“Sorry,” you said.

“No. uh … “ He breathed out another laugh and looked at you. He reached up and cupped a hand against the side of your jaw, running a thumb along your bottom lip. “Don’t be.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but stopped when you saw the television hanging from the roof just behind him.

“Sammy,” you said quietly, nodding towards it. He looked at it and his face dropped. The was a cop being interviewed on the news. Kevin Tran had just been reported as a missing person. The two of you tried to act as naturally as possible while the cashier finished ringing everything up. Sam threw some money at him – not as naturally as you’d hoped he would – and dragged you out of there, barely giving you a chance to grab the bags from the guy behind the counter.

Dean was hanging up the gas pump just as you and Sam made it over to him. “Hey,” Sam growled, handing Dean his coffee. “So, we got another wrinkle. Uh, looks like Kevin’s gone missing… and it’s gone federal.” Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Where’s Meg?”

“I’m here,” she panted, rushing around to the side of the car with her magazine.

You gave her a look, wondering what the hell she’d been up too, but then Dean said, “Great, so now we’re kidnappers?”

“Not if we shut up about it. Why? Who’d we kidnap?” Meg said.

****

It was night, and you had no idea where you were, but obviously Dean did, and that was good enough for you. Meg was sitting in the backseat behind Sam, Kevin was behind Dean, fast asleep. Apparently you ranked higher than both of them, because the brother’s had told you to sit at the front between them. You’d been excited – sitting in the front seat being a rare occasion – but that excitement soon faded when you realised just how squished you were going to be between them. Sam was turned slightly, facing you with his elbow on the back of his seat. Dean had one hand on the wheel, the other arm was stretched out behind you. You wanted to sit there and pout, but Dean’s fingers had pushed your flannel off your shoulder and started playing along your neck and shoulder. Every now and then he’d rub his hand up and down your upper arm, squeezing it a little as he pulled you against him. You’d given Sam a subtle glance to see if it would bother him. Normally you wouldn’t have, but after what happened in the service station you thought that maybe he’d be a little bothered by it now. It didn’t seem to phase him though, hell, he’d even moved back slightly to give Dean room to push your shirt down.

You were staring at Sam when Kevin woke, his proclaimed ‘oh God’ made you jump. Dean squeezed your arm again in absentminded comfort, and Sam smiled and chucked you under the chin.

“What?” Meg said to Kevin. She sounded so disgusted that you actually glanced back at him.

“Nothing. Nothing. Just… my life… my future…” Meg’s phone started ringing and she answered it, but that didn’t stop his melancholy sigh. “…my girlfriend… my mom’s car.”

He shut up suddenly and Meg said, “Yeah. Yeah, Castiel. It’s me.”

“Cas?” Dean said, turning to glance at her. “Where? Where is he?”

“Shut up,” she said to him. “No. No, Cas. You talk … Perth?”

“Perth? As in Australia?” you said, turning to look at her, you had to place a hand on Sam’s chest to steady yourself.

“What dogs?” she said, then she looked at you, “He says he’s surrounded by unhappy dogs … Oh. Okay. He’s at a dog track in Perth.” You rolled your eyes and turned back around, slumping back in your seat. Dean sighed and let his arm fall over your shoulder so you were nestled in the crook of his arm. “Yeah, they’re unhappy 'cause the rabbit’s fake. Listen, we’re on highway 94, north of St. Cloud, Minnesota, just passing mile marker 79.”

You heard the flap of wings and then Kevin screamed, making you jump again. You groaned and buried your face into Dean’s shoulder a moment to collect yourself.

“Kevin, this is Castiel,” Meg said.

“You’re one of the angels?” Kevin said.

Cas made an odd boop noise and then said, “Y/N, are you hurt?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. Firstly, you weren’t in the mood to be talking to him right now. Secondly, you weren’t some damsel in distress. And thirdly, you were so tired. God, you hadn’t even realised until you’d buried your face into Dean’s shoulder, but now you were finding it hard to move. You started to, blissfully, doze off, but jumped a moment later when you felt yourself sliding forward. You had to catch yourself on Dean’s thigh before you fell into his lap.

Dean glanced at you and pushed your hair off your forehead and wiped at your chin with his thumb, you were guessing from the wet patch on his shoulder that it was drool he was wiping off. “Tired?” he rumbled quietly. You nodded and rubbed a hand over your eyes. “Sammy.”

You felt a solid arm around your waist. You protested wordlessly as Sam leant his back against the door and pulled you into the cradle of his body, but that ended quickly when you felt just how comfortable and warm his was. How good he smelled. You sighed in content and wriggled against him until you were practically buried under his flannel.

Dean let out a strangled sound and growled, “Watch where you put those feet.” There was no heat in his words though, and he squeezed your ankle in a silent affirmation that they could stay in his lap. You closed your eyes, but with all the moving around you were too awake to fall right back to sleep. You didn’t mind though, it was almost therapeutic to lie there with Sam’s breath tickling the hairs on your forehead and his hand running up and down your back.

“Got yourself a little ménage à trois, huh?” Meg said. No one paid her any mind.

You heard shuffling in the backseat, and then you felt something smooth over your right eyebrow. You cracked an eye open and then closed it when you realised it was just Cas’s finger. “You still have that scar,” he said, smoothing his finger over your eyebrow again – and the barely noticeable scar that went right through the middle of it. You were thankful that most of the hair had grown back, only someone like Cas would have noticed it. You grunted an affirmative.

“Cas,” Dean growled when he kept touching your face. “Leave her be. Just tell us what happened back there? Who were those guys?”

“They’re from the Garrison – my old Garrison,” Cas explained as he sat back in his seat with a slight smile. “Looks like Hester’s taken over. We were assigned to watch the earth. Often, it was boring. The wars were very boring and the sex – you know, the repetition. Anyway, I was, uh… I was their captain. Isn’t that strange?”

“Cas, why are they pissed at us now?” Sam said, careful not to speak to loud or move too much. He could tell you weren’t asleep yet, but he knew you weren’t far off either.

Cas looked at Meg and said, “You know, those racing dogs were absolutely miserable. They can only think in ovals.”

“Cas, don’t make me pull this car over! Why are angels after us?” Dean snapped. You jumped at the tone, suddenly wide awake again. Dean squeezed your foot in apology and you grumbled under your breath as you buried yourself against Sam’s chest again. He ran large fingers through your hair before resting his hand so it sat just over your ear and pressed your other ear against his chest, you could still hear what was going on, but it was muffled, and a little easier to block out. Dean, Sam and Cas started talking about Hester and the Word of God, you caught bits and pieces of it, but eventually sleep was dragging you back under, and you weren’t exactly in a position to fight it.

****

Sam had placed you on the couch in Rufus’s cabin to sleep. He should have put you to bed, but you’d been having trouble sleeping lately, and he remembered that you once told him you didn’t like waking up alone. So he settled for the couch and a scratchy blanket to keep you warm. He could hear his brother rattling around down stairs trying to find a place for Kevin to set up and start translating the tablet. He and Cas had just finished up with the protection wards that would keep Cas’s old garrison from finding them, and now he was sitting at the table, picking red paint off his hands as he watched you sleep. Cas was sitting in a chair not far from him, playing with some … thing, that he’d found lying around.

“You seem troubled,” Cas said. “Of course, that’s a primary aspect of your personality, so I sometimes ignore it.”

Sam turned in his seat and looked at Cas. He thought about brushing the comment off, but then he thought about all the crap you’d been dealing with ever since Cas showed up. How you had tried so hard to get answers from him and got nowhere. He seemed a lot more talkative now, so … he gave it a shot. “Okay. Um… right now I’m just wondering about you.”

“What about me?” Sam pressed his lips together, wondering if he was over stepping his bounds by trying to get Cas to talk about your history with him. Thankfully, Cas had misinterpreted that look for something else. “You’re worried about the burden I lifted from you.”

It wasn’t at all what Sam had been thinking about. But he would play along, at least until he got up the courage to ask about you. To be frank, he was worried about what he might hear. “I think I was done for,” he said, trying to keep his mind on the present. “Do you see Lucifer?”

Cas sighed. “I did at first. But that was… It was a projection of yours, I think, sort of an aftertaste. Now I more see… well, everything.” He smiled at that thought. “It’s funny. I was – I was done for, too. The weight of all my mistakes, all those lives and souls lost, I… I couldn’t take it, either. I was… I was lost until I took on your pain. It’s strange to think that that helped, but –”

“What about Y/N?” Sam blurted out. There, he’d brought you up. Whether or not that was a mistake was yet to be seen.

Cas smiled and looked over at you. “Ah, my little angel.”

“Why do you call her that?”

“Because …” He looked back at Sam. “That is her purpose.”

Sam frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Much like the fates tying you and Dean to Michael and Lucifer. She is tied too.”

Sam swallowed and leaned forward, he didn’t much like the sound of that. “Tied to who, Cas?”

“Me. You. All of us. It was no coincidence that you found her when you needed her the most. She has a purpose in this world, just like everyone does.”

“What purpose?”

Cas watched you for a moment without answering Sam, then, quietly, he said, “That’s in God’s hands.”

Sam licked his lips. “Okay. So, you said you broke the rules when you went to see her. When she was a kid, I mean. Why? I mean, when Dean and I met you – you weren’t exactly one for throwing out the playbook and winging it.”

Cas smiled at Sam. “Why does any man break the rules?”

Sam frowned. “You don’t mean …? Cas, she was just a child!”

Cas sighed and let his head fall back against the wall. “You humans have always thought of love in such a linear way. What you are thinking is not what happened. I saw … her entire existence. I saw the ripples that she makes – how much she affects the world just by being. Would you believe that the things she does in her lifetime will, at some point, affect every person on this planet at least once? She’ll … smile at someone in Texas, and in India a woman will put her pot plant out in the rain because someone told her it would save it. That is … extraordinary. She is the walking theory of a butterfly creating a hurricane just by batting it’s wings half way across the world. No human being has ever done that – none ever will again. One day, she will die, and not many people will know her name, but everyone will have been affected by her. She was, is and always will be my favourite of all our father’s creations. Yes, I love her. That’s why I broke the rules.”

Sam sat back in his chair, mouth hanging open, a heavy weight in his chest. That wasn’t the kind of answer that he had expected out of Castiel, but then, what had he been expecting? The answer was nothing, he’d gone in blindfolded, and now he’d come out blind.

“Now I have upset you,” Cas said, his brow furrowing in concern.

“No.” Sam breathed out a laugh. “No, you haven’t. I-I-I don’t know what to feel. None of that makes any sense, Cas.”

“But it sounds right, doesn’t it?”

Sam looked at you, curled up on the couch, snoring away with the scratchy blanket tucked up to your chin. And, yeah, it sounded right. You weren’t doing anything more remarkable than drooling on the couch … and holding the entire world in your hands.

****

You awoke with a start, lashing out at whatever it was that had frightened you.

“Woah,” Sam said, grabbing your wrist to stop your fist from connecting with his face. “Sorry.”

“Sam,” you breathed out. You sat up fully, the blanket pooling at your hips, and ran a hand through your hair and over your face. “What’s going on?”

“Meg’s gone. We think she’s coming back with company.”

“Shit.” You reached under the pillow on the couch and pulled out your gun. You checked the clip, knowing it would already be filled with bullets that had Devil’s traps carved into them. Dean was standing over by the front door, finishing up the Devil’s trap there. Castiel was standing over by the landing that was the kitchen. He was looking down at his feet, hands behind his back. You and Sam joined him, and Dean followed, flicking the switch behind you that turned off the cabin lights. You all stood there in darkness. After five minutes of nothing you opened your mouth to ask just how long ago Meg had left, but snapped it shut again when the front door opened. For a moment you could see a silhouette lighted by the shine of the moon that came through the door, but then darkness fell again as the door closed. There was a gasp a second later and Sam flicked the lights back on.

“Didn’t expect to see you back,” Sam said.

“Yeah, not without the King’s army,” Dean said. He walked over to Meg and gestured to her. “Knife,” he growled.

Meg hands over his knife, but, of course, she couldn’t do it without opening her mouth. “Typical. I save our bacon, and you’re sitting here, waiting by a devil’s trap.” No one said anything, not even Cas. In fact, he had stated rocking back and forth on his heels and only glanced at her every now and then. “Seriously,” she snapped, “I just killed two of Crowley’s men. I could have gone the other way on that.”

“It’s true, incidentally,” Cas said, stepping up next to Dean. You and Sam followed him. “There’s other demons’ blood on that blade.”

“Look, I’m simpler than you think. I’ve figured one thing out about this world – just one, pretty much. You find a cause, and you serve it. Give yourself over, and it orders your life. Lucifer and Yellow Eyes – their mission was it for me.”

“So, what?” you growled, anger firing up in your chest when you realised that she had had something to do with Sam going into the cage. You had never had much of a problem with her, but that new information just gave you a reason to have a problem with her. “We should trust you because you wanted to free Satan from Hell?”

“I’m talking “cause,” douchebag, as in reason to get up in the morning. Obviously, these things shift over time. We learn, we grow.” Sam glanced at you and you felt your jaw clench and your hand tighten around your gun. “Now, for me currently, the cause is bringing down the King. And I know we’ll need help to do it.”

“Crowley ain’t the problem this year,” Dean said.

You frowned. “Crowley?” No one seemed to hear you. And you swallowed down the horrible feeling in your gut. Castiel hadn’t been the only one to try and save you from your father as a child. Though, of course, Crowley’s motivations had been completely different from Castiel’s. Well, you assumed they were. Quite frankly, you had no idea what Castiel’s motivations had been.

“When are you gonna get it?” Meg snapped, dragging you back to the present. “Crowley’s always the problem. He’s just waiting for the right moment to strike. I know what I’m supposed to do. And it isn’t screw with Sam and Dean or lose the only angel who’d go to bat for me.”

You knew what Dean and Sam had decided without even looking at them, because it’s what you decided as well, and they’d be pretty stupid to kill an ally right now. No matter how unreliable and temporary she may be. You stepped forward and rubbed out a patch of chalk with your foot, breaking the trap. She smiled and stepped out.

“This is good,” Cas said with a smile, “– harmony and communication. Now our only problem is Hester.”

“What?” you and Meg said in unison, earning odd looks from Dean and Sam.

“Well, here, we’re hidden from the Garrison,” Cas explained, “but when you killed a demon, you put out a pretty clear beacon.”

“We need better angel-proofing now,” you growled. No sooner did you finish that sentence than did the door break and fly off it’s hinges. A gust of wind blew into the cabin and three angel’s appeared in the room. One by the door, and two – Hester and Inais – behind the five of you.

“You took the Prophet from us?!” Hester yelled as you all spun to look at her.

“I’m – I’m sorry?” Cas said pitifully.

“You have fallen in every way imaginable.”

“Please, Castiel,” Inais said. “We have to follow the code. Help us do our work.”

“He can’t help you,” you said. “He can’t help anybody.”

“We don’t need his help… or his permission,” Hester said. She and Inais exchanged a nod, and then he disappeared. “The Keeper goes to the desert tonight.” Inais reappeared with Kevin, who was still clutching the tablet to his chest.

Dean put out a hand and said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back off. We’re actually trying to clean up one of your angel’s messes! You know that.”

“He’s right,” Cas said. “An angel brought the Leviathan back into this world, and – and they begged him. They begged him not to do it.” He shared a meaningful look with Dean.

“Look, just give us some time, okay?” you said, then you gestured at Kevin. “We will take care of your Prophet.”

She sneered at you. “Why should we give you anything… After everything you have taken from us? The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you all those years ago, he was lost!” Your jaw clenched and you gave her a hard look. “For that, you’re going to pay.” She advanced on you and you took a step back, your hand clenched around your gun, though you knew it would do no good against her.”

“Please,” Cas said as he stepped forward. She turned to look at him. “They’re the ones we were put here to protect.”

“No, Castiel,” she spat out through clenched teeth. Suddenly she backhanded him hard enough to send him spinning to the ground. You, Sam and Dean rushed forward, but Inais and the other angel both stepped forward ad held up two fingers each. Ignoring exactly what it was that they could do with those fingers, you lifted a fist and prepared yourself to fight. Sam grabbed onto your upper arms, hard, and pulled you back. Dean wrapped an arm around your waist and pushed you behind him, holding a hand up to ward off Inais who had advanced when you tried to fight.

“No more madness!” Hester screamed as she gripped the front of Cas’s shirt and punched him in the face. You flinched. “No more promises!” Another punch. Another flinch. “No more new Gods!” She begins punching him repeatedly for a few moments before pulling out an angel knife from the belt of her pants.

She raised it, ready to slash it down when Inais rushed forward and wrapped a hand around her raised forearm. “Hester! No! Please! There’s so few of us left.”

She hesitated, and for a moment, you think that he had gotten through to her, but then she punched Inais in the face and raised the knife again when he stumbled back. “You wanted free will. Now I’m making the choices.”

From across the room you saw movement. It was Meg, and she held an angel knife in her hand. You had no idea where she’d managed to find it, but it didn’t matter. You caught her eye, and without saying anything she understood what you wanted. You stepped forward. Grabbing the wrist of the other angel as his hand swung towards you with those two fingers raised. He could have easily over powered you, but he hadn’t expected you to physically fight him so he was caught off guard for a few moments and you managed to kick out at the side of his knee. You heard a crunch and he collapsed on the knee with a grunt. You stormed up behind Hester, catching the angel blade as Meg threw it towards you and buried it right into the middle of her back. White light spewed out of the wound and she jerked a few times before you pulled it out and she fell to the ground.

The Winchester’s and the two angels are looking at you, so is Castiel, though his look is more disapproving than amazed. You shrugged. “What? Someone had to.”

****

Inais and Castiel were standing by the fireplace, watching as Dean and Sam sat with Kevin and waited for him to finish writing up the last translations of the tablet. You were over by the couch, folding up the blanket and checking that everything you needed was packed. You didn’t know whether you would be leaving straight away, or if you were all going to be staying there a little while longer, but you’d gotten used to living out of a bag, and you liked to make sure that it was always packed so you could make a quick getaway if you had too.

“These are strange times,” Inais said.

“I think they’ve always been,” Cas replied.

Inais put a hand on Cas’s arm and smiled at him. “I wish you’d come with us.”

Cas looked over at you, watching as you took inventory of your bag. “Oh, I’m not part of the Garrison anymore, Inias. I’m sorry.”

Inais followed his gaze and breathed out a laugh. “That may be so. But it is not the reason that you will not come with us, is it?”

You finished up with your bag and headed into the kitchen where Dean, Sam and Kevin were. You glanced at Castiel as you passed by him. “Don’t let me hold you back,” you mumbled.

“Thanks, Kevin,” Sam said as you walked in and Kevin closed the notebook. “Not a lot of people could have handled this.”

“You doing all right there, “chosen one”?” you said as you patted his shoulder on your way to the fridge. You opened it, only to close it a moment later. You weren’t really that hungry after all, you guessed.

“Yeah,” Kevin said.

You leaned back against the fridge as Inais entered the kitchen and two angels appeared on either side of Kevin and placed their hands on his shoulders.

“Are you ready, Kevin Tran?” Inais asked. Kevin answered by standing and clutching the tablet to his chest. “Bring the Keeper to his home. We can watch over him there.” The four of them disappear a moment later.

Dean glanced around the room. When Castiel entered Dean looked at him and said, “I couldn’t find Meg anywhere.”

“Yes, well, she enjoys laying low,” Cas said.

“Here,” Sam said, notebook open as he ran his pen along the lines to follow along with what he was reading. “’Leviathan cannot be slain but by a bone of a righteous mortal washed in the three bloods of the fallen.’ Uh… It says we need to start with the blood of a fallen angel.”

Sam and Dean looked at Castiel and you walked over to take a gander at the notebook.

Castiel was smiling when he pulled a glass bottle with a cork stopper from nowhere. “Well, you know me. I’m always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.” He looked at you and handed you the bottle that was now suddenly filled with his blood. “And you of course.”

You look at it and grip it tightly in both your hands before looking back up at him. He’s still smiling down at you. “Where are you going now, Cassie?”

Sam cleared his throat and gestured to his brother. He seemed to take the hint and the two of them left you and Cas alone. Castiel reached out to you, the smile still in place, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His hand lingered there for a moment and you turned your face into his palm and briefly closed your eyes.

“I never left you,” he said. You looked at him. Tears welled up in your eyes as, in that brief moment, he suddenly looked like your old Cassie. “I stopped appearing before you when your mother sent you away. Partly because people were starting to suspect why I was always disappearing, and partly because I didn’t think you needed me anymore. But I never left you. I was always keeping an eye on you. If you had ever been in danger, I would have come again.”

“I’m always going to need you, Cassie,” you whispered. He pressed his lips together in an empathetic smile. “You never answered my question,” you said quickly before the tears began to fall. “What are you going to do now?” Because you knew he wasn’t going to stick around. The old Cassie would have, but not this one.

“I don’t know.” He thought for a moment and then let another wide smile grace his face. “Isn’t that amazing?” Then he was gone.


	10. The Bleeding Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the tablet’s transcription and Castiel’s blood in hand, you, Dean and Sam start gathering together the rest of the ingredients needed to create the weapon that will kill Dick, starting with the blood of an Alpha. Luckily, Crowley knows just where to find one, and he’s more than happy to give the information up to you. Meanwhile, you struggle to understand why Sam isn’t upset after catching Dean trying to make a move on you. He was supposed to be into you … right?

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table in Rufus’s cabin, laptop open in front of him. Dean was slouched back in the couch with his legs kicked up onto the coffee table, he was reading through the notebook that Kevin had written the tablet translations in. You were lying on the couch next to him, head resting against his lap as you flicked through the days newspaper.

Dean sighed and his head fell back against the chair. “Okay, I’ve read this more times than the Playboy I found in Dad's duffel.”

Sam looked up with a thoughtful frown. “Anna Nicole?”

Dean smiled and nodded once. “Anna Nicole.”

You groaned in appreciation. “Oh, the good – they die young, huh?”

“I hear that,” Dean said as he ruffled your hair affectionately. Sam half grimaced, half smiled. “Look, we can read this till our eyes bleed. It ain't getting any clearer.” You grunted in annoyance as he dropped his legs from the coffee table and sat up. You sat up as well, wiggling your butt to try and find another comfortable position as you folded the paper and tossed it onto the coffee table.

“Okay. Then what does it mean?” Sam said.

“Uh… Cut off the head, and the body will flounder.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Well, I think we can all agree that, uh, the head is Dick. Right?”

“Right.”

“So, bottom line is, we go grab the stuff, and we mix ourselves a weapon. End of story.” He picked up his beer bottle and tilted the opening to his lips.

“Look, I'm all for killing Dick. I'm just saying, what then? I mean, what about the rest of the Leviathan? What, are they gonna just... drop dead?”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” you said, giving him a half-incredulous look. “’Maybe’ is good enough for you right now?”

“One problem at a time, all right?” Dean said, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Okay. But, I understand what Sam’s getting at. It's not a crazy idea to try and figure out what the catch is before we go crashing the gate.”

“Maybe this is the catch.” He kicked his feet up on the table again and sat back. “God's not telling us every detail. You know? The word is from God. I don't know how much better it's gonna get.” You pressed your lips together in concern. He placed a large hand on your head and ruffled your hair again as he pulled you into him. You turned and laid back against him, his arm coming around the front of your shoulders to hug you to him, and you looked at Sam. Your eyes met and you could tell that he was just as concerned as you were about what might happen.

****

You were bent over the bathroom sink, rinsing your mouth of toothpaste when you first felt the familiar chill that Bobby always brought into a room. Your breath came out in a white mist and you slowly straightened, watching as the mirror misted over next. You turned, and there he stood. He looked paler than usual, and so you asked him what, you were sure, the brother’s would be dying to know. “Hey, Bobby. How you feeling?”

“Stronger than ever,” he said, which is exactly what you were concerned about. “Now, while you three have been chasing your tails, I've been thinking on that weapon.”

“Don't you think you should be saving your strength?”

“For what?”

“I'm just saying you might want to slow down. You don't look so hot.”

He scoffed. “I'm in the Veil. My Brad Pitt days are over. Now, the kid says that the only way to kill Leviathan is with a bone washed in the three bloods of the fallen. It's got to be from a human as light and good as the Leviathan are hungry and dark.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Yeah. Good luck with that.” You’d never met a person as pure as that, not even a child.

“The rest is doable, and doable now. You've already got the fallen angel blood. Now, next up is blood from the ruler of fallen humanity. Now, the best I can tell, that's Crowley. Numero tres is the father of fallen beasts.”

“Which means...?”

“You got to bleed an Alpha.”

You frowned and flicked your tongue against your bottom lip. “Dean told me about those guys. Didn’t Cassie whammy them all after Dean and Sam rounded them up?”

“Well, then, make this Cas' problem, too.”

“Cas ain't exactly in the problem-solving mode, Bobby.”

“Then Crowley!”

You ignored the emotions that that name brought up and looked at Bobby a moment. You were a little concerned about his anger, but that went away quickly when you realised that he was probably just as frustrated as the three of you were. The fact that he couldn’t do much about it wouldn’t have been helping him any. You let out a sigh and nodded. “All right, I get it. I get it.”

“Do you?!” The mirror behind you cracked. That, combined with Bobby’s shout and the sudden drop in temperature made you jump and take a step back from him. The concern you’d felt earlier came flooding back. “I'm just sayin',” he said, voice soft and low now, “I have faith that you boys will figure it out.” You nodded once and swallowed as you watched him warily. “Relax. I'm fine. Just got a little carried away.” You turned to the mirror, trying to remember whether or not you’d already brushed your teeth. “Oh, and Y/N?” You looked back at him. “You keep lookin’ after those boys, you hear? They need you a hell of a lot more than they let on.”

You shrugged. “I don’t see how.”

He pressed his lips together and looked over his shoulder as though he was making sure no one was listening, then he turned back to you. “Growin’ up those boys dreamed of havin’ a normal life. A wife, kids, the whole shebang. Now, they gave up on that a while back, but you’re the closest they’ve ever come to having that and keeping their day jobs.”

You frowned. “I don’t get it. I’m not sleeping with either of them let alone dating, or thinking of a white picket fence with them.”

“Well, that is true, but you still give them the kind of love and affection that a man can only get from the love of his life. And that’s all they really want now.”

You laughed. “Listen, Bobby, I don’t know if it’s the whole ghost thing that’s gettin’ to ya, but I am not the love of their lives.”

He shrugged. “You say that, but have you ever seen them talk to or treat their other friends the way they talk to and treat you?”

****

Sam and Dean are sitting at the kitchen table watching a Sucrocorp video on Sam’s laptop when you walk in. You stop for a minute and watch them, thinking back on what Bobby had said. You hadn’t had an answer for his question, though you think it was more rhetorical than anything. But looking at them now, you knew he was right, at least about how differently the brother’s treated you compared to everyone else. You still weren’t entirely sold on the whole ‘love of their life’ thing, it just seemed too romance book-y to actually be true.  

Dean looked up at you and you moved towards them, the last thing you needed was him wondering why the hell you were standing there and staring at them stupidly. You grabbed two beers out of the fridge and Dean thanked you as you planted one down in front of him. You put the other one down in front of Sam, he looked up at you and you shook your head, then marvelled at the fact that you’d known he was silently asking you if you wanted one with just a look. He gave you a smile and sat back in his chair, dropping a hand easily to your hip and nudging you to plop down on his knee. He popped the top off of his beer and took a drag from it before setting it back on the table, then he leant forward until his back was pressed against yours so he could see the lap top screen over the top of your head. When his hand landed heavily on your thigh you looked at Dean, wondering if he found the excessive contact odd. He didn’t seem to, but of course he wouldn’t, because this kind of affection had become the norm between you and the boys, it was Bobby’s comment that had made you analyse and over think every action.

“You okay?” Dean asked, his gravelly voice snapping you out of your daze.

“Uh, yeah, you know Bobby’s officing out of the john these days?” you said.

“Awkward,” Sam said, and you could feel the rumble of his voice through his chest.

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “You’re telling me. Uh, he does have some ideas about the weapon, though.”

“Really? Well, he may be just in time.” He clicked the mouse on his laptop and an article popped up on the screen titled ‘Roman Acquires Sucrocorp’.

Dean leaned in and looked, taking a swig of his beer. “"Roman acquires..." What's Sucrocorp?”

Sam’s hand wandered up your thigh and rested dangerously low on your abdomen, his fingers stroking against the crease where your thigh met your crotch. The calm way he was talking with Dean and the ease with which he’d moved his hand made you think that it was a subconscious thing. You reframed from jerking at the touch and forced any further thought of it out of your mind, concentrating on the conversation going on between Sam and Dean.

Sam said, “They make food additives, namely high-fructose corn syrup. That crap is in – well, it's in just about everything – um, soda, sauces, bread.”

“Don't say pie,” Dean said.

“Definitely pie.”

“Bastards,” you and Dean said in unison. Sam snorted, then you said, “So now what? Roman's moved past restaurants?”

“And into grocery stores,” Sam explained, “Gas n' Sips, vending machines.”

“What can we do about it?”

“Short of going Al Qaeda on their trucks and plants, there's nothing we can do about it.”

The laptop in front of you closes on it’s own and Sam and Dean jump. You had a small moment to be proud that   
this time it wasn’t you who got the fright. “Like I said, uh, Bobby's got some ideas,” you said.

****

Dean put a wooden bowl down on the small table that was set up with chalk symbols, a bottle of blood and candles. He pulled out a pocketknife and cut into the palm of his hand before dripping his blood into the bowl while Sam chanted a Latin phrase. Once Dean was done, he wrapped his hand up with a cloth and Sam lit up a match, tossing it into the bowl. The blood lit up like mini fireworks, and Crowley appeared before they ever got a chance to die down.

“Hello, boys,” he said. Then his eyes met yours and you swallowed. He hadn’t changed at all.

****

“So, that's what all the "rumble, rumble" was about,” Crowley said after Dean explained to him what was going on and why you all needed him. He paced around the table, trying to look nonchalant, but the intense stare that he was giving you made the brother’s turn in their place to follow him and put you at their backs. “Who translated it for you?”

“Never mind,” Dean growled. “You gonna give us the blood or not?”

He stood still and just stared at you, of course, you stared right back. “Happily. But not quite yet. I'm all for chopping Dick, but I can't have you running around with a vial of my blood, now, can I? You know the sheer number of nefarious spells my enemies can use that blood for?”

“Well, then when?”

“Last. After you've got all the other components. Most difficult, the angel part, I'm assuming,” Sam and Dean shared a look, and Crowley’s smile widened as he watched them. “Given your role in their little apocalypse, I can't imagine the choirboys upstairs are wetting their vestments to do you – what's the word? – a solid. Unless, of course, you have an angel up your sleeve.” His eyes landed back on you. “I know this sweet little kitten here had your Castiel on a leash once.” He took a step towards you and Dean and Sam stepped closer together in front of you. “Did you know he was dead, Kitten?” He tilted his head. Since he’d appeared you’d felt like you were walking on eggshells. Crowley hadn’t changed, that much was true, but that didn’t mean that he still held that odd soft spot he’d had for you as a child. The look he was giving you now though, seemed to sway you towards the belief that he still did. The words he’d just said sounded harsh, but the look was almost soft, concerned, even sympathetic. The brother’s would never have picked up on it, but you’d gotten to know Crowley very well all those years ago, and his mannerisms hadn’t changed at all.

You swallowed, but didn’t answer him. What you wanted to do was give him a playful look, the one you’d give him as a kid when you teased him. He only ever let you tease him, you never knew why, and still didn’t, but you took full advantage of it. Either way, you supressed it now. He obviously didn’t know Cas was alive, and the brother’s seemed to want to keep it that way, acting happy about his death wouldn’t convince him of it. You and Crowley had had a good relationship, but you were under no illusions as to how dangerous he was or what he could do. You also weren’t foolish enough to believe that he wouldn’t harm you if it benefited him.

“She knows,” Dean growled. “And, yeah, that’d be convenient, but we don’t have an angel just lying around.”

“Don't worry about it,” Sam piped up, drawing Crowley’s eyes from you to him. “We'll get the angel blood one way or another. We just need you to be ready next time we call.”

“Fine,” Crowley said as he paced back around to the other side of the table. You all turned with him, but the brother’s didn’t put you at their back this time, probably because he wasn’t watching you like a hawk now. “Oh, here's a tip. I have it on good authority there's one Alpha still among us,” Crowley said.

“Whose authority?” you said. You’d tried, but you had trouble keeping your mouth shut in times that you probably should have. Crowley looked at you with his ever present smirk.

You moved around the table to stand in front of him. Sam had tried to stop you but you were too quick for him. For a moment the two of you stared at each other. He was still smirking, and you could feel an amused glint creep into your eyes. His grin widened and you knew he’d noticed it.

“Mine,” he told you, and for a brief moment you wondered if he was telling you it was on his authority, or if he was staking some sort of claim. “Mine. Wily character, that Alpha vampire. Somehow made good his prison break before Cas went nuclear on the place. You do know what I’m talking about don’t you?”

“I know enough. The question is, how do you know about the Alpha?”

“Keep your friends close, your enemies, blah blah. Needless to say, I keep tabs.” He tilted his head as he considered you again. “I kept tabs on you too, you know.”

“Really?” you drawled.

“Really.” He raised his hand and lightly grabbed the tip of your nose between thumb and forefinger, and used his hold to shake your head side to side slightly. He used to tease you as a kid by pretending he’d taken your nose. He wouldn’t do that now, but him grabbing your nose like that was his way of reminding you. You breathed out a laugh and grabbed his wrist to pull his hand away as your cheeks heated up in embarrassment. He smiled and chucked you under the chin. “The Alpha moves around quite a bit. But I have an inkling I know where to start the Easter-egg hunt. Happy trails.” And then he was gone.

“Where?” you called to the empty air in front of you. You heard flames whoosh to life on the table behind you and turned to see them just as they died down and revealed Hoople North Dakota burnt into the table. “Piece of paper would have worked.”

“Y/N,” Sam said softly. You looked up to see he and Dean staring at you. “How do you know Crowley?”

You shrugged, trying to look as if it weren’t that big of a deal. “Same way I know Cassie.”

****

You were at a Hoople’s Gas N’ Sip. Dean was standing near the back of the old, beat-up, red car that the three of you had stolen for the road trip. He was filling up the tank while Sam leaned against the passenger side. You stood in front of him, eyes closed as you rubbed and rotated the stiffness out of your neck.

Just as you heard the bell of the service station door ring – signalling someone exiting – Sam said, “Hey.” You opened your eyes and looked at him. He was looking at Dean, making a hand signal that looked like he was asking for a drink. You were glad that Dean was interpreting his sign language and not you when you realised he was telling Dean to put the flask in the car so they could talk in private.

“He seem angry?” Sam asked you after Dean hung up the gas pump, put the flask in the car and then started walking with the two of you into the store.

“Angry? Of course he's angry. If you were Bobby, wouldn't you be?” you said.

“But was he showing signs of fatigue, like – like fritzing?”

You shook your head. “Just the opposite. He said he never felt stronger.”

“That's what I was afraid of.”

There were some people inside, so when you, Sam and Dean entered and picked up a shopping basket each, you kept your voice low. “The stronger he gets, the closer he comes to going full vengeful spirit. That's reality. We need to talk about what we're going to do with him.”

“I agree,” Sam said.

Dean frowned at the two of you as you started strolling through the aisles. “Do with him? Sam, three weeks ago, you were – you were talking how this could work. And now – now the two of you want to go Kevorkian on his ass?”  
Sam backed you up. “We’re just saying that the lore doesn't have a single real-life example of Casper the Friendly Ghost. It's all basically poltergeists until a hunter comes along...”

“Yeah, well, the lore sucks,” Dean growled, picking up a bag of chips and inspecting it before putting it back.

“Pure hatred, Dean,” you said, giving him a sympathetic look over the top of the food rack. “No humanity. I mean, he could... kill... possess people. I mean, Bobby could burn this friggin' building down. Look, if he goes off the rails –“

“Hey,” Dean interrupted.

“What?” Sam looked up from inspecting a packet of noodles.

Dean nodded his head and you looked behind you to where he was gesturing. There was a man pumping mustard onto his hotdog. “Check out that guy over there. He seem a little out of it to you?”

“I – I don't know. Maybe.” You didn’t give much thought to it, thinking this was just Dean trying to get out of talking about Bobby.

He frowned in contemplation and looked around the store. “What about Paula Deen over here?” He turned and you shifted so you could see past him and look at the old woman staring at the beers with the fridge door wide open. You realised that she’d been there since the three of you entered.

Sam looked around and, when his eyes fell on a guy slurping on a slushie looking like he was high as hell, said, “Yeah, they – they look like…like those Turducken people.”

“It's starting,” you said, picking up a can in front of you to read the ingredients. “It's the corn syrup. Everything in the store is laced with it.”

“Everything?” Dean said dismally as he looked at a slice of pie.

You all split up, looking through the ingredients of everything in the store to try and find something that wouldn’t zombify you. Five minutes later Dean came stomping over to you looking miserable. “Hey, I'm gonna go into toxic shock, okay? I-I...” He picked up a box of cookies and shook them in your face. “I need my road food.”

“That's what Roman is banking on,” you said, snatching the box from his hand and chucking it back onto the shelf, you were just as hangry as he was.

He looked down at the plastic container in his hand, it was pie, and just when you thought he couldn’t get any more miserable, hope filled his face and he held it up, tapping on the label. “Hey. Hey. This one says "natural." Th-th-that means it's safe. Right?”

You sighed, gently coaxed the pie out of his hand and placed it back on the shelf. You lifted a hand and cupped his face with a shake of your head. “Oh, Dean.” His eyes were wide and he looked at you like a four year old would look at their mother when they thought they might be getting candy. “I hate to break it to you, but corn syrup is natural, technically.”

“Well, then what the hell are we supposed to eat?”

You pressed your lips together and held up the basket in your hand. It was filled with banana’s and bottled water.

****

It was dark when you guys finally pulled up to the Alpha’s house, and for an hour Dean sat there looking at it through a pair of binoculars. You were a lot of things, but patient wasn’t one of them. Apparently, neither was Bobby, if his fidgeting in the back seat next to you gave any indication.

“It's totally dark. I can't see inside.”

“Really? We’ve been sitting here for an hour!” you said.

Dean gave you an irritated look but Sam cut him off before he could say anything. “Well, should we wait for daylight?”

“Hell no,” Bobby said, “we're not waiting. I'll scout it. See if we need to bring in the big guns.”

“I don't know. Look, Bobby …” Sam started, but Bobby was gone before he got to finish. He sighed as he and his brother looked into the backseat. Dean turned back and lifted the binoculars to his face again. You didn’t know what the point of it was with the house still being dark and all. It didn’t matter either way because Bobby reappeared a moment later.

“Okay. Place is clear. But there's something you're gonna want to see,” he said.

****

The place was beautiful. A large, Victorian era, upper class mansion. Fit for an Alpha. The room you were in now was the dining room, if the long-ass table was any indication. It wouldn’t have fit inside any house or room that you’d ever lived in. Hell, the room that it was in now was bigger than all the motel rooms you, Sam and Dean had been staying in. Everything was polished and perfect wood and silver, the only thing that took away from the room were the three dead bodies draped across the table. A closer inspection said they were vampires, and by the burn marks around their mouths it looked like their last meal hadn’t agreed with them.

“Careful,” Dean said when he thought you might be getting too close. You glanced at him and tightened your hold around your machete. Dean and Sam had almost identical ones.

“You know a way to kill vamps with battery acid?” you asked no one in particular.

“Only way I know is beheading,” Bobby said.

“Well, something didn't agree with them,” Sam said.

You looked at Dean to see if he had any input, only to find that he was standing in front of a painting over by the wall behind the head of the table; his head was tilted to the side. You walked up behind him, placing a hand on his back. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Check out this wall. Something seem weird to you?”

You frowned and tilted your head as well. There was something off about the panelling, like it wasn’t put in right. “Yeah, see if you can find a switch or a lever or something.”

“Don’t need one,” Bobby said suddenly. And then he walked right through the wall. You sighed and began running your fingers along the cracks around the odd panelling, trying to find a latch of some sort. Dean helped while Sam started pulling books from the bookshelf to the right. After a while you were ready to give up and start trying to kick the panelling in, but then Sam got your attention and held up a book from the bookcase. Or, at least, half a book. He sticks his hand back into the bookcase, and you figured he must have pressed a button, because as soon as he did the panelling in front of you split apart and swung open like a pair of doors to reveal a room. There’s a bed in the middle of the room and a fireplace on the other side of it. The walls were pink and there were various toys and stuffed teddies scattered along shelves. It looked like the kind of room a five year old would have. There was a woman in the room. She’d stood up when the doors swung open, now she stood by the fireplace with a frightened look, her hand resting on the mantle. Her hair was dark and her eyes were blue, she looked to be about twenty, and she was wearing a floral, pink nightgown and hugging a stuffed teddy bear to her chest.

“Guys, machete,” you said when you noticed her eyeing off the weapons in your hands. The boys followed suite when you tucked yours back into your belt.

“Hey. Look. We're not gonna hurt you. Okay?” Dean said. He bared his teeth at her. “No fangs. See?”

“We just want to talk,” Sam said.

She finally relented and agreed to come out of the room and talk. You’d rummaged through the kitchen – when you eventually found it – intending on making her coffee or tea or something, but the best you could come up with was water in a fancy mug. She didn’t seem to mind. Her fingers were curled around the mug and she was hunched in a chair in the dining room with Dean’s jacket draped over her shoulders.

“I was eight,” she said as she stared intently at the ground. “My mom left me at the playground while she ran to the store. A man approached me and said I was the prettiest girl there. And I've been living with these... things... ever since. At least until now.”

“Do you have any idea why?” Sam asked. He was sitting in a couch adjacent to her. You were sitting in the chair directly opposite her, and Dean was standing right next to you, his arms folded and feet braced shoulder width apart. He had his hard face on, but he didn’t say anything or move away when you absentmindedly ran a finger along the seam of his jeans while the girl talked.

“I'm one of his special girls,” she answered. “All the others, it was their job to make sure I was ready for the Alpha, whenever he came. Wash me... give me my IV bags every day. It's my only food. So my blood's pure.”  
“They've been doing this for, what, 12 years?” Dean growled. You could tell he was getting angry, he had a huge problem when it came to innocents like her getting screwed over by the world, it made it worse that she’d been taken as a kid. You wondered briefly what he felt about what happened to you. You’d told him that you didn’t want to talk about it, and so he pretended that he didn’t know. But lately you hadn’t been feeling all that great. The nightmares coming back were one thing, but the PTSD was coming back with a vengeance as well. You hadn’t noticed until you’d seen Crowley again. You just … you needed a hug … reassurance … a talk … something. You could go to Sam easily, but he wouldn’t let it be a one time thing, the minute you came to him for comfort he’d think that that was what you always wanted. He’d treat you like you were fragile. But Dean? He would give you everything you needed and then pretend like it didn’t happen afterwards if that’s what you asked for.

You hadn’t realised you’d tightly squeezed Dean’s thigh in your anxiety over your PTSD until you felt his hand nudge your shoulder. You looked up at him, Sam and the girl were still talking so they didn’t notice what was going on. You gave Dean an apologetic smile and tried to focus your attention back on to what she was saying. Rather than brush it off, Dean wrapped a large, warm hand around the nape of your neck and squeezed gently. You closed your eyes briefly and leaned into him. He didn’t remove his hand when he cut into Sam and the girl’s conversation, which shocked you, considering Sam was more likely to be affectionate with you in front of other people than Dean was, but you didn’t question it.

He nodded towards the bodies on the table. “Hey, these, uh... these guys – they, uh, friends of yours?”

“They take care of the Alpha when he's here. Or did,” she said.

“What happened to them?” you asked. She looked at you, and you realised that it was the first time she had. She tilted her head, considered you a moment. You thought that maybe she was sizing you up ad your hand began to twitch as you forced yourself not to reach for the machete at your hip. But then she looked back down at the ground and the spell was broken.

“A week ago,” she started, “they came back from what they said was an easy hunt. Three humans just came, didn't put up any fight. But when they started on them, the vampires screamed in pain. The ones who ate died immediately.”

“And the ones who didn't?”

“There was only one. When he saw what happened, he moved to animals. He's out hunting as we speak.”  
Dean looked at his brother. “Never heard of vamps being allergic to humans before.”

“You think maybe it's the corn syrup?” Sam said. “I mean, think about it. The Gas n' Sip was lousy with stoners. All ripe for the picking.”

“She did say it was an easy hunt,” you said.

Sam turned back to the girl. “Do you know where the Alpha is now?”

She shook her head. “I don't know. Maybe. He has a place he goes to when something's wrong. He calls it his retreat.” Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. She asked him what it was.

“That's, uh, that's Sam's douche tracker,” Dean said. “Helps us find the Alpha. All we need's an address.” You punched his thigh and breathed out a laugh. He looked at you and shrugged his shoulders as though he had no idea what you’d hit him for. You just shook your head and looked back at the girl.

“I don't know,” she said. “But I remember things that maybe can help.”

“That's okay. Just do the best you can,” you said.

****

“Oh, God,” you groaned as you took a bite out of the carrot Sam had just brought from the supermarket you were leaving. You spat out what was in your mouth and threw the carrot back into the brown paper bag that Sam had cradled in his arms. He gave you a disapproving look, but at least Dean was on your side, if his empathetic glance was anything to go by. “I can't do this,” you said. “I can't live on rabbit food. I'm – I'm a warrior.”

Dean nodded in agreement but Sam just laughed. “Y/N, you'll be fine,” he said.

“You don't know that.” He gave up arguing, whether because it was futile or he just couldn’t stop laughing long enough to reprimand you, you didn’t know.

“So what's next on the list?” he said.

Dean said, “Well, if we're bum-rushing the Alpha, then we're gonna need dead man's blood, which means a morgue.”

“Or...” you started to say as you stopped in your tracks and watched as a large man slurped away at his … well … slurpee. He was sitting on a bench nearby, and he looked about as stoned as a hippie at Woodstock.

“Or what?” Sam said, stopping and turning when he realised you weren’t following him anymore. He and Dean followed your gaze a minute later and you looked at them with a wide smile and open arms.

“Why are we bothering with a morgue? We’re swimming in vamp kryptonite,” you said. Without waiting for their opinion, you walked over to the man and pulled out the fake FBI badge you had stashed away in the inner pocket of your coat. The man looked up at you and you smiled at him. “Hi. We, uh, we're with the... Red Cross? See, we have an emergency shortage.” You showed him the badge. “And we're gonna need you to...You're not getting a word I'm saying, are you?” He kept staring up at you blankly. You pressed your lips together, nodded your head and tapped the badge against the palm of your hand as you watched Sam and Dean join you.

“Hey,” Dean said as he collapsed down into the seat next to the man and snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Hold out your arm. We need your blood.”

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed next to you. The man held out his arm. Dean smiled and lifted his hands.

You shrugged and reached into your pocket to pull out an empty syringe, looking around as you did so to make sure there were no onlookers. You passed the syringe to Sam. “Alright, Rex. Tap the keg.”

“Here?” he asked incredulously. He didn’t seem to notice the use of his nickname, a nickname that you hadn’t used in months. It hadn’t been his fault, you just hadn’t felt like yourself, but stealing blood from a guy stoned on burgers felt more like your usual antics with Sam when you were back at the institute. You weren’t sure what that said about you, but you were long past caring.

“Yeah, Sam, look around. It's friggin' Woodstock. Everybody's hopped up on the brown acid. We don't need the song and dance. Give him a little prick.”

Sam sighed and you and Dean shared a triumphant smile. Dean put his arm along the back of the bench behind the man as Sam sat down on the other side of him and started pressing his fingers into his hand. Looking for a vein you were guessing. He found one and pushed the needle into the back of the man’s hand.

“Oww! That hurts,” the man droned. Sam started to draw blood and the man slowly raised his eyes to your face. “This is for Hurricane Katrina, you said?”

You smiled. “Yes. Yes, I did.” He stuck his tongue out and used it to pull his straw into his mouth and begin slurping again.

“So, look,” Sam started, the cap of the syringe caught between his front teeth, “when we get there...”

“Yeah?” Dean said when his brother didn’t continue.

Sam glanced behind him to the stolen car the thee of you had been driving around. The woman from the vamp house was still in the back seat. “Bobby's gonna have to hang back.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Do you disagree?”

“He ain't gonna like it,” Dean argued. “I mean, he helped us in getting Emily.”

“Look, I'm Team Bobby, too. Okay? But there's a reason we left him in the car with Emily. You know that. The more action he sees, the more chance he gets to spin out.”

“All right, fine. So, we'll keep him off the front lines, and he can just, you know, keep calm and carry on, right?”

“Guys,” you snapped quietly as a police car began driving slowly past the bench. The siren went off and the brother’s jumped a little and glanced back. Sam cussed under his breath and pulled the syringe from the mans hand and put the cap back on it before discreetly slipping it back into his coat. Dean kept his back to the cop and looked at you.

“Is he looking?” Dean growled quietly at you.

The cop looked at you and you smiled and waved at him. War’s ‘Why Can’t We Be Friends’ was blasting out of his stereo as he shoved a pastry into his mouth. “He’s higher than my mother on a Wednesday night,” you said through your stretched smile. The car drove off and the brother’s shared a relieved look. The man between them kept slurping at his drink.

****

You were sitting in the back seat of the car looking out the window. Dean had been driving long enough that it was dark now. The girl was sitting on the other side behind Sam, you thought that she’d be tired by now, but she showed no sign of giving in to whatever exhaustion she might be feeling. She was a tough girl.

“When they hauled you off to vamp camp, do you remember how long the drive was?” Dean asked her.

“We left at night,” she said. “Got in before dawn.”

“So, six, seven hours?” Sam asked.

“I think so, yes.”

“Do you remember any highways?”

“No. We only took back roads.”

“Okay. So, figure they averaged 45 miles per –“

“Couldn't have been more than 300 miles,” you cut in, knowing that he’d take longer than you to work out the math.

“Right.”

“What direction were you going?” you asked, looking at her now.

“I don't know. I'm sorry,” she said. But she didn’t look at you as she said it. You weren’t sure what problem she had with you. She hadn’t been mean or aggressive to you, in fact, she’d been nothing but pleasant, but you got the feeling that she didn’t like you for some reason.

“Oh, that's okay, Em,” Sam said, and you remembered that she’d said her name was Emily at some point, “you're doing great. Um...is there anything else you remember?”

“Bells,” she said. “As we pulled up, I heard these loud bells.”

“It was still dark out?”

“You thinking church?” Dean said.

“No, that's too early. It could have been a monastery. Monks get up at 4 a.m. to pray.”

“Ugh,” you groaned in disgust as you turned your attention back to the passing scenery. “Can't get laid. Can't sleep in. A friggin' tragedy.”

Sam pulled out his phone and began searching for nearby listings just as Dean said, “Okay, so, Alpha's camping next to a, uh, monkey house.” He glanced at you over his shoulder with a proud smile and you laughed at his pun. He looked back at his brother. “How many we got in range?”

“Looks like one,” Sam said. “Just outside Mt Missoula in Montana.”

****

You’d managed to track down the monastery and found that the place was crawling with vamp patrols and body guards. The plan had been to get Emily to a safe place before circling back and taking down the leeches. So now you were in a motel room where you’d planted Emily on a bed. She’d been rooted there ever since you turned the TV on and flicked it to TMZ. It suddenly made you remember how young she’d been when she was taken.  
You hauled your duffel bag onto your shoulder and walked over to where Sam and Dean stood by the door. You held the syringe of the stoned guys blood out to Sam. “All right, here we go. 10 ccs of Vamptonite.” Sam gave you an odd look. You nodded, and said with all the confidence in the world, “It's a thing.”

“What's a Kardashian?” Emily suddenly asked from the bed, her eyes still glued to the TV screen.

You smirked. “That's, uh... just another bloodsucker.” Dean snorted but Emily started to look worried so you hurried to rectify it. “No, it – it's... a joke.”

Sam smiled at you as he wrote something down on a pad while Dean shook his head and walked over to the safe in the closet. After finishing whatever it was he was writing, Sam walked over to Emily and handed her the pad. “Here. If we're not back by dawn, call this number – Jody Mills. She's a friend. She'll take care of you. Here, use this phone.” He handed her one of his disposable cells.

You looked over at the sound of Dean’s voice. He was putting Bobby’s flask into the safe and telling him that it was for his own good. You pressed your lips together and walked over to him while Sam and Emily continued to talk.  
“Dean?” You put your hand on his back and he looked down at you. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll work it out.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

His brow furrowed as some of his worry began seeping into his face. He glanced over to make sure neither Sam nor Emily were watching before he pulled you into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to your cheek, landing closer to your mouth than he normally would. He pulls back a little, but not so far that you can’t feel his whisky breath brush against your face. Your eyes are locked together for a moment but then his stare drops down to your mouth and he leans forward ever so slightly. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you, and you think that this isn’t enough time to process whether you want to be kissed by him, but –

“Ready to go?” You draw in a breath and take a step back. Dean does the same and you both look at Sam. You knew he’d seen what just happened, and there was no way that he could have misinterpreted it, but he didn’t look upset. He looked … fine, in fact. You wondered whether he’d care if he had actually caught the two of you kissing, and your heart dropped when you realised that he probably wouldn’t. It was a bucket of cold water on your face, and it reminded you that Sam just didn’t see you that way. You were his friend, nothing more. But, Dean … Dean was good enough for you. He would make you happy, you knew that, both of them would, but Dean was the only one showing any interest for something more.

“Yeah,” Dean said. He cleared his throat and you tried to clear your head of the fog that you’d found yourself in. Sam moved back from the closet door to allow the two of you out. You looked up at Sam as you passed him. Wondering if maybe you’d read him wrong, and he was actually bothered by what he’d just seen. He’d told you once that he was attracted to you. Implied that he was interested in pursuing something. He gave you a re-assuring smile and reached up to run his fingers along your temple and through your hair. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to you anymore. Maybe he’d lost interest. You didn’t know of any men who would be fine with their brother making out – almost – with their love interest. If you were in a romance novel you’d think that they wanted to start a polyamorous relationship with you, but this was real life, not fantasy on paper. Sam just wasn’t into you, and Dean was.

Dean wrapped his hand around the doorknob and pulled it open, only to have it be yanked back out of his hand and slam shut. Emily jumped and Dean smiled to re-assure her. “It was the wind.” Then he said quietly, “Chill out, Bobby. We'll be back soon.” He opened the door again and this time it stayed open until he closed it behind you and Sam as you all stepped out into the hall.

“Well, he didn't take that very well,” Sam said once you were all out of earshot of the room.

“How'd you think he was gonna take it?” Dean growled.

Sam opened his mouth to reply but as you all turned the corner he collided with a cleaning cart that a maid was pushing. He apologised to the flustered woman and shot a glare at your barely concealed smile.

****

You were all in the car parked outside the monastery. Your arms were flung over the front seats as you leaned forward to look through Sam’s window.

“Well, this time of day, most of them would be catching z's. They won't know what hit them,” Dean says. Sam doesn’t respond.

You tap his shoulder. “Hey. You with us, Rex?” you asked softly.

“Yeah,” he said in hesitation.

“But?” Dean said.

Sam turned to look at the two of you. “Are you sure you just want to charge in there, machetes blazing? Last time, it took a dozen hunters to take down the Alpha. And most of them didn't make it out.”

“Yeah, well, you got a better idea?”

****

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you mutter as you walk up the fronts steps of the monastery and lift a fist to knock on the door. You pause just before your fist lands on the wood. There was a crack that suggested the door wasn’t entirely shut. “Guys,” you said and you put your palm on the door and pushed it open slightly.

“Maybe we're too late,” Dean said. You push the door open a little wider and take a step over the threshold. Before you get to take a full sweep of the hall you were stepping into, two cold, solid hands landed on your shoulders and you were yanked to the side as something hissed in your ear. You heard your name be called and looked back just in time to see two more vamps take a hold of Dean and Sam. The three of you were dragged down halls and past, what seemed like, hundreds of rooms before finally being shoved into a room that was almost identical to the dining room back at the vamp nest that Emily had been holed up in.

You stumbled in a little ahead of Sam and Dean, having been pushed harder, but eventually they came up next to you so you were all standing at the end of the long dining table. At the other end was a bald man with a regal appearance about him. He was dressed up in a snazzy suit and his posture was perfect. The long, pointed talons that he called fingernails, however, ruined the appearance. Or maybe they added to it, you couldn’t tell, you were too busy trying not to fidget under his gaze. If you had to bet money, you’d bet that he was the Alpha vampire.

“The Winchesters,” he said, as though he weren’t even that surprised. “And …” He looked at you expectantly.

“Y/N.” Your voice is steady as a rock. People tremble when they’re scared, you seem to become calmer.

“I'm intrigued.”

You don’t get to voice the snappy comeback you had on the tip of your tongue, because at that moment, Emily enters into the room through a door just to the right of the Alpha. And suddenly you knew why she hated you. Well … no, you didn’t, but it was easier just to believe that it was because she was the enemy, and you ignored the fact that she hadn’t seemed as unfriendly with the Winchesters.

“Hi, Sam,” Emily said after the brother in question choked out her name in shock.

“Wow. For a girl raised in a basement, you're a hell of an actress,” Dean said.

“You were gonna hurt my daddy.” She lovingly stroked the Alpha’s shoulder.

“Wow,” you scoffed. “You get a trophy in Stockholm Syndrome. And sorry to burst your bubble, but, uh... we weren't. Sam here had a better idea.”

“We're here to talk. That's it,” Sam explained.

The Alpha laughed. A deep, throaty chuckle that pierced you right down to the bones. “Now that my guys have taken your blades and your syringes of tainted blood. Is that what you mean?”

“Well, we, uh... figured you might hold a grudge,” Dean said.

“And why would I? Because you captured me, tortured me, sold me to the king of Hell?”

“That was more our grandpa.” Suddenly a hand was on the back of Dean’s head and he fell to his knees as his face was slammed into the table in front of the three of you. The minute you saw the blood drip down from his mouth you saw red. With a growl you swung around and sent a boot into the vamps gut. He dropped to his knees and as quick as he’d hurt Dean his neck was broken. You braced yourself to take on the next vamp that stepped up, aware that you didn’t have the element of surprise this time, but Sam was in front of you a moment later with his hands up as he backed you into the table with his own back.

“Don’t. Please!” he shouted. The vamp stopped in his tracks, but you were guessing that it was because of his Alpha’s laughter rather than Sam’s pleading look.

You turned back to Dean and placed a hand on his shoulder. He grunted in pain as he stood up and you wished, not for the first time, that broken necks killed vampires.

“I don’t know whether you’re immensely stupid, or just brave,” the Alpha said with a smile. You turned back to face him, Crowley’s face popping into your head at his words.

“A … friend,” – could you even call Crowley that? – “once told me that they were one in the same.”

“Hmm.” The Alpha tilted his head and considered you a moment. “You amuse me. I may keep you around for a little while longer.” Emily didn’t seem to like that. “Your friends, on the other hand, well … I'm going to peel off their faces and drink them slowly.” He lifted his hand to showcase his talons, and you were vaguely aware of Dean wiping the blood from his teeth and mouth next to you.

“Just listen,” Sam said. “You need us.”

“Oh, yes. I am thirsty!” the Alpha growled, his neck straining and his hands clenching around the arms of his chair in anticipation.

“The plague! We know what it is!” The Alpha calmed himself. “What do you know about Leviathan?”

A pause, a smile, then, “A bit.”

“You know they're poisoning the food supply?”

The Alpha drew himself up in his chair, returning to his regal image. “Roman didn't mention that when we met for dinner last fall. We made lots of plans. We are on excellent terms, he and I.”

“You sure about that?” Dean said. “Did he mention that he was going to... Maui Wowie the human population?” He ran his tongue over his teeth and his jaw clenched.

“Oh, of course,” the Alpha said. “He said grabbing a snack would be easier than ever.”

You narrowed your eyes as you realised what was going on. “He said you'd all live together, didn't he?” you said. “You really believe him? You think your children are dying by accident? There is pesticide in the formula!”

His smile wilted at the corners and he drank from the goblet in front of him to hide it. He put the cup down when he regained his composure and said, “It suits you to think so. You need me on your side.”

“Look, we're not the ones burning from the inside out. Think about it. Whatever deal he made with you was crap! Trust us!”

“Why are you telling me this?” he said suddenly, as though he just realised that he had the Winchesters and little old you trying to keep him and his vampires alive.

“Because we can stop Dick. Stop all of it. We just... we need your blood – for the weapon.”

The Alpha laughed. “So now you want to prevent the extermination of the vampire race.”

“No,” Dean growled. “But it beats going down with you.”

The door to the right of the Alpha opened again and a little boy appeared. “Allan, darling...” the Alpha said as he crooked his finger at the boy. “Come.” The boy glanced around nervously at everyone in the room before scurrying to the side of the Alpha that Emily wasn’t standing on.

“Well, the creep gets creepier,” Dean said.

“What's wrong?” the Alpha said to Allan.

“Edgar's here,” Allan said quietly.

The Alpha nods and touches the boys’ jacket in dismissal.

“Wow, what a funny coincidence,” Dean said. “All right, we need soap, uh, cleanser, anything with borax in it. We need knives.” Even as he began rattling off what he needed, you could tell by the way the Alpha straightened in his seat and looked at the three of you that he wasn’t about to give you what you wanted.

“Put them in the study,” he said to his henchmen, proving your hunch.

“What?” Sam said. “No. No, wait.”

“Word of advice, boys. You do not live through centuries of fire and ice and continental divide... by jumping to   
conclusions.”

The vampires that had brought you into the room gripped Dean and Sam’s shoulder. You turned to see that the vampire who was about to grab you was the one that you’d broken the neck of earlier. You lifted your lip in a sneer as he lifted his hand towards you. He hesitated, but then remembered he was a vampire and thereby stronger and faster than you. His grip hurt, you thought he might’ve broken your collarbone if his fingers had dug in lower. Dean and Sam protested as the three of you got dragged back out of the room. A few doors down you got thrown into another room that was a fraction of the size of the dining room. It mostly looked like a typical, Victorian era study, apart from the bags of blood in the refrigerated cabinet and the empty blood bags that hung from medical stands. Dean immediately went for the door and tried to open it. It was locked, just as you knew it would be, just as he’d known it would be, but it was human instinct to try the locked door first.

“Anything?” Dean asked no one in particular.

“Nothing,” you said as you turned from inspecting the window that you’d gone too as soon as you entered the room.

Sam looked around the room and said, “You think Edgar's here for the same reason we are? I mean, look, if they figured out that we're here to get Alpha blood for a weapon...”

You joined him and Dean in the middle of the road. “I think any way you slice it, you got Pac Man and True Blood in the same room and that's bad news. I mean, he's not stupid. Why the hell do you think he locked us in here?”

“Y/N, we're his enemy. I mean, they're like monster cousins or something. Who would you give the benefit of the doubt to? Man, you know what? Maybe the Sucro is poisoning the vamps on accident. Maybe they'll fix it.”

Dean lifted a finger, looking as though he’d just realised something. “I think you got the oldest monster on earth thinking that he can hold his own because he always has.”

“Edgar's gonna eat him alive,” you said.

“Yeah. Hey.” He reached down and picked up a needle that was attached to one of the empty blood bags. “You   
think you could pick a lock with this?”

You scoffed and snatched it out of his hand. “Please. It’s me you’re talking to.”

“Dean...” Sam cut in. “We gave up all our Vamptonite.”

“Did we?” he said with a sly smile. He reached down and pulled up the bottom of his jeans to pull out a syringe he had tucked into the top of his boot.

****

The three of you creep down the hall quietly but quickly. Sam was in front, Dean in the middle, and you brought up the rear. Turns out that was the worst place for you to be in a house full of vampires. You let out a shout as you felt hands fall heavily on your shoulders. Just as the hiss sounded in your ear you lifted your hands to protect the sides of your neck. Dean and Sam spin around immediately and Dean rushes forward to stab the syringe into the side of the vamps neck. The vampire falls back from you with a scream, landing on the ground with a thud. His flesh began burning around the needle and he died seconds later.

“Wow,” you breathed out as you looked down at the vamp.

“Vamptonite,” Sam said.

“Friggin' vamptonite.”

“All right,” Dean said, “we need knives. There's got to be a prep room or a kitchen somewhere. Come on.”

****

The fight with Edgar was over as quick as it had begun. The three of you had walked into the dining room to find him fighting with the Alpha. Dean had walked up behind Edgar, distracting him long enough for Sam to get a machete right through his neck and spine. Dean advanced on the fallen Alpha a moment later, demanding that you bring him a glass. “We're juicing this freak,” he growled.

“No!” Emily screamed.

“Stay back!”

The Alpha pounced back to his feet with ease and sent Dean flying over the table. “Leave her alone,” the Alpha growled as he straightened out his suit. “She's been through quite enough.”

“Now, that's rich...” you said, glancing at Dean to make sure he was okay, “coming from the guy who took her off the swing-set.”

“Do you want to do this fight? Or do you want my blood?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just sat at the head of the table and used one of his talons to cut open a vein in his wrist. He made eye contact with you as he bled himself into a cup and you forced yourself not to look away. He stood once he was done and offered the cup to you. “For taking care of Edgar. Now go.” You didn’t bother saying that it was actually Dean and Sam who did all the work, you didn’t think he really cared about the semantics.

Despite his dismissal, none of you moved. Finally, after a few long moments, Sam said, “What about the little boy?”

“Are you joking?” the Alpha growled.

“Do we look like we're joking?” Dean snapped. “How many other kids you got in here, you freak?”

The Alpha sighed. “At the moment, just him.” He turned to Emily. “Emily... help Allan with his coat. He's leaving with Y/N.” He thrust the cup at you and ground out through clenched teeth, “Now, take it.” You took the cup from him, stomach churning when your fingers brushed against his. You didn’t think you could get to the door quicker, unfortunately, he stopped you just before you could leave. “What? No "thank you"? Oh, right, right. Your flesh is crawling. All you really want to do is kill me now. You hate having to wait and come back and try again.”

“Pretty much,” Dean said, then he nodded at Edgar’s head. “I wouldn't leave that head too close to that body for too long.”

“See you next season,” the Alpha said.

“Looking forward to it.”

****

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck as you walked down the hallway of the motel you were staying in. You’d thought you had difficulty getting out of the vamps nest alive, but Allan’s family was a whole other thing. “Let's never do that again,” you grumbled. “Cops thought we took that kid.”

“Long as he gets back to his folks, I don't care what they thought,” Sam said, hiking his duffel bag up onto his shoulder when it started slipping down.

“We had to jump out a freakin' window, man.” You stop suddenly and drop your bag to the ground to pull out your gun when you saw Dean do the same in front of you. Looking around his body for an enemy to shoot, you realise what spooked him. The door to your room was ajar. He reached forward and pushed the door open before stepping in and flicking on the light switch. You follow close behind with Sam, glancing at the broken mirror and the trashed room.

“Bobby,” Dean said. “Bobby?”

“Dean?” you said. He turned to look at you and you nodded towards the now open safe. “He's gone.”

It took Sam all of five minutes to sweep the room with the EMF meter after that discovery. Dean just stood there staring into the safe the whole time. And you just sat on the couch staring at him. You could tell by the tense set of his shoulders that he was irritated. You wanted to comfort him but he would never allow it while he was in this mood.

“I'm getting trace bits of EMF,” Sam said, “but it's fading fast. And Bobby's probably been gone three or four hours. He's got the flask, Dean. How the hell are we supposed to track him? Look, I hate to say this...”

“Well, then don't,” Dean growled. He turned suddenly and sat down on the arm of the couch, right next to you. You took that as sign of him wanting the comfort – else he could have sat in a million different places if he didn’t want it. “He's gone.” He let out a brief laugh and then sighed in resignation. You tentatively lifted a hand and slid it under his layers of clothes and onto the skin of his back. He cupped the side of your head with a large hand and pulled you in against his side. “How could he do this... now? I mean, we've got half the freakin' weapon, we're almost there.”

“It's not him,” Sam said. “I mean, he's not thinking.”

“So, what, we just keep going while he's out there like this?”

“Do we have any other option? I mean, it's what he'd want us to do. Right?”

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. “Yeah. Yeah, him and Frank and Cas, if his marbles were in the bag.” Your hand spasmed on his back at the mention of Cas’s name. His absence left a weight in your stomach and a hole in your heart. “It's a good thing we got Crowley in our corner. Right? Seeing as how it all comes down to him. What could possibly go wrong?”


	11. The Nightmare Survives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, Sam and Dean finally manage to pull together the final ingredients to make the weapon that will kill Dick. But is Crowley trying to pull a fast one on you guys? Is Castiel finally ready to cut the self pity act and help? And are Sam and Dean seriously suggesting an alternative relationship status for the three of you? Which one of them will you choose? Or will you go through door number three and take on both the brothers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also this series is so long holy crap hahahaha Maybe we should start betting on how many more titles I can come up with that have the word Nightmare in them. 
> 
> THIS PART HAS SMUT

It was dark and gloomy and raining and you were irritated as all hell. The stolen car’s AC had kicked the bucket again so you were shivering in the back seat despite your layers. The fact that neither of the brother’s seemed bothered by the cold just pissed you off. And the fact that they’d been fighting for the past ten miles pissed you off even more. 

“I still say this is a bad idea,” Dean said after Sam told him that the exit was coming up in three miles. 

You sighed as Sam took the bait and started the argument up again. “Dean, it was your idea, and it was the best one any of us had.”

“I said it as a joke.”

“It was a bad joke – good idea.”

“Yeah, only because we got no magic spell, no book – nothing on how to find a freakin' righteous bone.”

The moment that Sam mentioned calling Castiel again was the moment that you jumped in. “No, freakin’way,” you growled as you leaned forward in your seat.

“Y/N, come on…”

“Dude, in my bed, he showed up naked... covered in bees.” Dean’s shoulders shook as he laughed and you punched him. 

“Yeah, I'm not really sorry I missed that,” Sam said with a look of distaste.

You reached over the seat and turned on the radio, shushing the boys when they started bickering again. “Listen.”

“Hear me out. This is a new sector for Roman,” the woman on the radio said.

“That’s right. He’s holed up at Sucrocorp headquarters right now,” her co-worker said. 

Dean switched off the radio. “Holed up at Sucrocorp, huh?” You and Sam shared a look. 

****

“Well, I guess if we can't find a righteous bone in a friggin' nunnery crypt,” you sighed as you shone the flashlight on the iron gate in front of you. Sam stood just behind you with a large book in his hands that had all the listings on the nuns buried in the crypt. Dean had opted to stay in the car, something about how there being three of you now meant he didn’t have to do the dirty work. Asshat. 

“All right,” he said, pointing to the book. “Here – listen to this. Sister Mary Benedict, uh, taught the learning-impaired and died at age 23.”

You pushed open the gate and looked around the small burial room as you and Sam entered it. “Eh, it's a little young. Find someone who's had time to cook.”

“Okay, well, there was, uh...” he paused as he followed his finger down the list of names in front of him, “here – Sister Mary Eunice. Uh, fed the poor, became Mother Superior at age 60.”

“Sounds political. Power corrupts.”

“Right. Um...” another pause, “listen to this – Sister Mary Constant, 83 years of quiet, humble nun-like goodness. What do you think?”

You turned to him and looked down at the book in his hands. “Wow. I want to be more righteous just reading this.”

“Exactly.”

“All right, well, I lay odds on her.” You shone your flashlight around the room until it landed on a plaque bearing the name of Sister Mary Constant. “Here we go.” You walked over to it and tossed Sam the flashlight, smiling at him as you said, “Well... let's bone this nun.” He made a face and shook his head. “No? Right … sorry.” You readied the sledge hammer you’d been carrying, took a breath, and began smashing in the plaque to reach the coffin inside. 

You got the job done in under five minutes and let the hammer fall from your hands with a heavy thud. You wiped the sweat from your face with your forearm and turned to Sam with a triumphant smile. He didn’t look as happy.

“What’s the matter, Rex?” you said. 

He hesitated before walking over to you. “Do you think we’ll walk away from this?”

You shrugged. “No clue.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

You grinned. “It just makes it more fun.” You sighed when his expression grew more solemn. “Look, Sam, I’ve spent my entire life locked up. In the institute, my room, my mum’s cold, hard, pompous –” you stopped and took a breath before you could continue on with the rant. “The point is I’ve never been free. And now I am. Sure, I’m probably gonna die soon. But I chose that. I had the freedom to choose that. And it makes me … happy. Really, really happy.” The corners of his lips curled up and he shook his head slightly. You smiled. “What?”

“Nothing. That was just, uh … very Dean-like of you.”

He chuckled when you punched him in the shoulder and tried to stifle your smile. “Shut up.”

When silence fell between the two of you, you started to turn and pull the coffin out of the grave in the wall, but Sam’s suddenly intense stare held you to the spot. “Maybe we shouldn’t wait,” he said.

“What?” you said.

“Months ago, when we had our first hunt together with Garth? We had that talk outside of the widow’s house and we said that we should just wait and let things happen naturally  
between us. But maybe we shouldn’t wait.”

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. And suddenly the image of Dean leaning in towards you for a kiss popped into your mind. Sam had seen that, and he’d said nothing, and now he was asking you this? “What about Dean?” you blurted out.

“You’d prefer him?”

You shook your head ad ran a hand through your hair as you tried to gather your confused thoughts together. “N-no that – that’s not what I meant. I just – you saw what he tried to do. You … you don’t care about that? And n-not – not that I want you to be jealous or anything, it’s just … shouldn’t you be? I mean, you said nothing about it. Neither of you fought over it. And I’ve seen you guys fight over a cookie.” 

Sam smiled. “No … no I get it. I guess … we just never fought over girls before. Of course, we didn’t normally attract the same type of girls, but when we did it was always up to her. And there were never any hard feelings. I like you, Y/N … a lot. We both do. But it’s your choice to make. And neither of us is going to think any less of you or – or stop wanting to be around you just because you choose one of us over the other.”

You smiled, barked out a short laugh at your good fortune. “Yeah, and what if I want you both,” you scoffed. 

He shrugged. “If that’s the case, than we can handle that too.” 

You stopped laughing and the smile fell from your face when you realised he was serious. “Sam, I was joking.”

“I wasn’t.”

You watched him for a moment, expecting him to start laughing and say that he got you, but he just stood there and stared at you. “Are you seriously suggesting –”

“Guys! How long does it take to get a freakin’ bone from a dead nun?” Dean called out. His voice echoed through the room, but you were sure he was just around the corner from the iron gate. You were too dumbfounded to say anything, but luckily Sam had enough sense to call back and say that the two of you had found one and were pulling her out now. Neither of you spoke again as you both completed the rest of the task, and Dean didn’t seem to pick up on the tension as he came in to watch the two of you do all the heavy lifting. 

****

You threw a lit match into the bowl in front of you. Flames rose up and sparked before dying down. Crowley didn’t show. You, Sam and Dean looked around Rufus’s cabin.

“Is he trying to make a grand entrance?” Dean said.

“I don't know...” you said.

“Son of a bitch. He's standing us up.” He growled as he headed back over to the nun’s bone that he’d been carving into a stake earlier.

You felt your heart drop in disappointment. A little part of you had hoped that Crowley cared enough for you that he’d do this favour for you and the boys. You suddenly realised how stupid you’d been. You weren’t a little girl anymore, and it had been years since then. 

Sam gestured at the bowl. “Well, we summoned him. Doesn't he kind of have to –“

“If Crowley wants to screw you, he'll screw you,” you said. You could already feel that part of your heart hardening against the pain. You didn’t mourn the loss of someone for very long, especially when it was a loss caused by their betrayal. 

Sam, noticing your sudden hurt, insisted, “Or... he can't come 'cause something went wrong.”

“Maybe.”

There was a soft knock at the door and Sam instantly drew his gun and aimed it in that direction. He looked at his brother when nothing else happened. “Maybe it's good news,” Dean said.

Sam pressed his lips together, walked towards the door and glanced through a makeshift peephole. Then he straightened and gave his brother a confused look as he lowered his gun. He opened the door and there stood Meg, in all her sweet ass, strangely-attractive-considering-her-species, glory. She barged through without being invited and looked at you.

“You deal with him. I can't anymore,” she said.

You raised an eyebrow. “Well, hello to you too honey.”

“I don’t have time for the flirting today, but how about I take a raincheck for, hm … I don’t know, never.”

“Didn’t have to be mean about it,” you muttered as you moved over to join Sam at the door behind her. 

He leant down and whispered. “Don’t sweat it. I’m not even sure she has a sexuality. But I can always call Charlie for you, or just scratch the itch myself if you’re not after a specific body part.”

You elbowed him lightly in the ribs with a shocked choke and he chuckled quietly, throwing an arm over your shoulders. You folded your own arms in defiance but didn’t move away. 

“You might want to be more specific,” Dean said to Meg, neither of them having heard or seen the playful exchange between you and Sam. 

“I was laying low halfway across the world when emo boy pops up out of nowhere and zaps me right back here,” Meg said. Her voice was all casual and sarcastic as usual, but she was definitely giving off the I’m-sick-of-your-shit vibe. You couldn’t help noticing that it was kinda hot, despite your increasing dislike for her every time you found out the multitude of ways she’d screwed the boys over.

“Why?” you asked, trying to rid your head of the incessant sexual fantasies. Maybe you should give Charlie a call, at least there wouldn’t be any complicated strings attached with  
her. 

Meg rounded on you. “Go ask him. He was your boyfriend first.”

****

Castiel was still seated in the passenger seat of Meg’s stolen vehicle when you walked out of the cabin. Vincent by Don Maclean was playing through the radio. You’d never liked the song, but apparently it was Cas’s jam now. You leaned in the open driver’s side window and looked at him. He had that ever-present pleasant smile on his face. Like he was so naïve about the world around him, and certainly not an angel that was thousands of years old. 

“Hey, Cassie,” you said. He raised a hand in greeting, looking like he’d done no wrong. You felt the anger bubble up in your stomach again, as it always did around him, and you straightened, closed your eyes, and swallowed it back down before leaning in the window again. “What's, uh, what's the word?”

He stared out the windshield and said, “Well, Y/N, I've been thinking. Monkeys are so... clever, and they're sensible in that they leave the skins on the bananas that they eat. Is it really necessary to test cosmetics on them? I mean, how important is lipstick to you, Y/N?”

You sighed and played along. “Not very. You want to come inside and, uh, tell us what's going on?”

****

“Now, you understand I don't participate in aggressive activity,” Castiel said, shaking his finger in Sam’s general direction as he headed over to the bowl with the bone in it and you closed the front door. He picked the bone up when you went to stand between Sam and Dean. He sniffed it and you frowned. “Mm. Sister Mary Constant. Good choice.”

“Why'd you go to Meg, Cas?” Dean said.

“When I left, I wanted to observe the flowers – and fruit. Flowers come first, obviously. But I heard nothing from them.”

Sam perched himself on the arm of the couch and Dean folded his arms, giving Cas a hard look. “You heard nothing from who?” Sam said.

“The Garrison.”

“What happened to the Garrison?”

“Well, finally, the silence was deafening, so I went to look.” He took a few steps towards the three of you. “To the home of the Prophet. You know, Leviathan can kill angels. There's a reason why Father locked them in Purgatory.” He paced back towards the bone and you realised he was anxious. “They're the Piranha that would eat the whole aquarium. They're gone. The entire Garrison – dead. If there's anyone left at all, they're in hiding.”

You all shared a look and Dean stepped forward. “Um, I'm sorry. If the angels are dead, where's Kevin?”

“I could steal them from their cages, the monkeys,” Castiel said. “But where would I put them all?”

“Hey!” you snapped and clapped your hands to get his attention. “Focus. Is Kevin alive?”

“I don't want to fight,” he said quickly, his head dropping in that submissive gesture that he’d done back in the institute after he’d woken up and you’d gotten angry at him when he wouldn’t tell you where he’d been all those years. 

“No, I'm not –“ you swallowed and couldn’t finish what you were trying to say.

“We're worried,” Dean finished for you.

“They took him,” Castiel said. “He's alive. I felt such responsibility, but it's in your hands now.”

“Wait. Hold on a freakin' minute.”

“I feel much better.”

“Guys,” Meg interrupted, “what's all that?” She gestured to the bowl and spell paraphernalia you were using earlier to try and summon Crowley.

“We called Crowley,” Sam said.

“You what?”

“Don't worry. He never showed,” you said.

“What do you mean never –“

“Do you see him anywhere? He stood us up.” Your anger began boiling again at the memory of him.

“Well, I'm sorry about that, but I'm outie. He could still sh–“

“Show up at any time.” You spun around suddenly at the sound of Crowley’s voice. “Hello, boys.” His eyes landed on you. “Y/N.” And even the way he said your name sounded more intimate and possessive than the way he addressed anyone else. “Sorry I'm late. This is an embarrassment of riches.” He glanced at Meg. “Stay, won't you. There's really nowhere to run.” Of course, like any sane person, Meg ran straight for the door. Crowley appeared in front of her a second later, blocking her exit. “Don’t even think of smoking out, pussycat. I've got eyes all over the place.”

“Leave her be,” Castiel said as he took a few steps forward. 

Crowley left Meg at the door and took a few long steps forward himself. “Castiel. When last we spoke, you – well, enslaved me. I'm confused. Why aren't you dead?”

“I... don't know,” Castiel said slowly.

“Well, do you want to be? 'Cause I can help with that.”

You stepped between them, holding a hand up towards Crowley, not that you thought it would actually stop him, but it was reflex. “All right, enough.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes at you and his voice dropped to a growl. “It's enough when I say. I came here to help you. I find out you've been lying to me, harboring an angel, and not just any angel – the one angel I most want to crush between my teeth.”

“Oh, so you can crush angels now, huh?” Meg said with a wry smile.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You bore me. You know that? You have no sense of poetry.” He turned back to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. You’d been so angry earlier, believing that he’d betrayed you, that you’d let yourself forget you’d been betraying him too.

“I’m sure you are,” his volume matched yours, but his tone was much angrier. “We’ll discuss this at another time. I’m not here for a lover’s spat.” He looked over your head at Castiel. “Now, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Well, I'm still, uh, honing my communication strategy,” Castiel said, sounding closer than he had been before. “I haven't even been back to Heaven. I-I keep thinking there are no insects up there, but here we have... trillions.” You and Crowley exchanged a glance. “You know, they're making honey and silk and... miracles, really.”

“What are you talking about?” Crowley said. 

“Um, preferring insects to angels, I guess.” Castiel came to stand beside you and pulled a ziplock bag filled with honey out of his pocket. “Here. I can offer a token, if you like.” He held the bag out to Crowley. “It's honey. I-I collected it myself.”

Crowley gave you another glance and you lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “You're off your rocker. He's off his rocker – is that it?” He scoffed and glanced at the bottle of whiskey and the shot glasses on a nearby table. “Karma's a bitch, in’nit?” He poured himself a glass of the whiskey. 

“Look,” Dean growled, “did you come here to, uh, donkey-punch your old grudges or to help us end Dick? Pick a battle.”

Crowley sniffed at the whiskey in his glass and grimaced before looking at Dean. “Well, I'm vexed. I'd like to do both. But where's the fun in clobbering a ball of wet fur? Text me when Sparkles here retrieves his marbles, I suppose. Meanwhile...” he pulled a vial of blood out of his pocket, “a prezzie.”

“Really?” Sam said. He looked like he’d much rather drain Crowley entirely. “Just boxed-up and ready to go?”

“I'm a model of efficiency,” Crowley said.

“Is that right? Then why were you late?”

“Dick had me in a devil trap.” When Dean and Sam exchanged nervous glances Crowley sighed. “He's not an idiot. He knows what you two are after.”

“So what did he offer you?”

“A fair deal. In exchange for giving you the wrong blood.” He shook the vial in his hand. “It's demon, but is it mine?” He paused a moment, for dramatic effect you were guessing,  
then he looked at you again, and his voice went back to that gentle tone that he only ever used with you. “It's my blood. Real deal.”

“And why should I trust you?” you said. As a child he’d never seemed dangerous to you, but now … well, it wasn’t that he’d changed, it was just that you’d grown old enough to see just how dangerous he was. 

“You don’t remember what I used to tell you?”

“That I should never trust anyone? Yeah, no … I remember that.”

“A lesson I learned from my last business partner.” A hard look at Castiel. “And you.”

“Crowley …” you took a step towards him, opened your mouth to say something. But what could you say. You didn’t trust him, probably never would, so you shouldn’t be bothered that he didn’t trust you. You’d grown up, your relationship with him wasn’t what it used to be. He’d helped you in a way that Castiel never had, no matter how much you’d begged him. That would forever be what held you and Crowley together. But it was a frayed rope at best, one that you weren’t sure could hold the two of you much longer. You thought that maybe if you hadn’t allied yourself with Sam and Dean that things between you and Crowley would be different, but they weren’t people you were willing to give up. The damage had been done. Now all you could do was wait. 

Crowley shocked you again by grabbing your nose between his thumb and forefinger and gently shaking your head from side to side like he had the last time the two of you talked. “Don’t fret your pretty little head about it Kitten. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to make it up to me.”

He dropped his hand and you frowned at the implication in his words. “I won’t turn against them Crowley.”

He smirked. “Not even for little ol’ me?” You pressed your lips together and said nothing. 

Dean stepped forward, his hand landing heavily on your shoulder as he pulled you back against him. “All right. Give us the blood.”

The smirk didn’t leave Crowley’s face as he looked up at the older Winchester. “Certainly. Oh, bonus,” he looked back at Meg. “Meg, I'm gonna scoop you up, take you home, and roast you till you're jerky.” Castiel stepped forward but Crowley quickly held his hands out to the side and said, “But not... yet. Cas can have you for now. Hilariously, it seems he'd be upset at losing you.” He turned back to look at you, Sam, Dean and Cas. “And the Brady Bunch needs Cas to get Dick. Don't they, Cas?”

“Oh, I – I don't fight anymore,” Castiel said humbly. 

“Come on,” Crowley pushed. “Given the particulars of your enemy, sadly, you're vital.” He tossed the vial of his blood to Sam and you all tensed and watched as it arched through the air before Sam caught it. Crowley was gone when you looked back. 

****

Dean sighed as he flipped through Kevin’s notebook and started reading the translation again. “Well, one thing's for sure – we only get one shot. This thing don’t reload.”

You pressed your lips together and looked down at the small table that the three of you stood in front of. It was covered in various containers and candles, and right in the middle sat two bowls. One with Sister Mary Constant’s bone sitting in it, and the other with Castiel’s and the Alpha’s blood already mixed together. 

Sam fiddled with the vial of blood that Crowley had given him and said, “You think Crowley's, uh...”

“Double-crossing us?” Dean said.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so,” you said, still staring at the bowl in front of you.

Dean looked down at you. “Yeah? And what makes you so sure?”

You shrugged. “He was angry at me. He wouldn’t have been that angry with me hiding Castiel if he’d planned on betraying me – us – anyway. Besides, you’ve met Dick, you really think he would have given Crowley anything substantial? The guy’s greedy as hell and wants control of everything.”

“I think you overestimate how much he likes you,” Sam said. “But the rest makes sense.” You said nothing on the former part of what he’d said. Neither of them understood Crowley the way you did. Now, you didn’t think he was the poster boy for everything good in the world. And you definitely didn’t think that whatever drew him to you was based on human emotion. But it was based on something, and whatever it was, it was strong enough that you could read him better than anyone else could. Of course, that was about as good as someone being an expert on how the universe started, no one really knew, though there were people educated enough to make a guess. You were one of those people when it came to Crowley. No one could ever really predict anything he would do or think, but you were educated enough on the matter to make a decent guess.

Dean shrugged. “I think you've got to figure who he wants dead more – us or Dick.”

Sam pulled the stopper from the top of the vial. “Depends on what Dick offered. Here we go.” He poured the blood into the bowl with the Alpha’s and Castiel’s blood already in it. Then he put the vial down and picked up the bowl. “Okay. Um…so do we, uh...”

“Uh, there's no magic words – nothing. We just... just go,” you said.

“All right, then.” He tipped the contents over the top of the bone. Some of the blood stuck and started to stain the stark white beneath, but most of it dripped off into the bowl below. He put the bowl down when it was empty and you all waited. Nothing happened.

“Where's all the thunder and lightning?” Dean said.

“Uh... maybe it worked?” you said. 

“Awesome.”

The flapping of wings sounded behind you and a heavy hand landed on your shoulder and made you jump. You turned and saw Castiel holding three plates of sandwiches. “So, none of this should cause you any ill effect. I went to a little farm in Normandy for the wheat and the lettuce and tomato and – and I thoroughly examined and comforted the pig before I... slaughtered it for the ham. Here.” He held a plate out for you. “You need your strength.”

“Gimme,” you half growled as you snatched the sandwich from the plate and started stuffing it into your mouth. You groaned in delight when you tasted the pork. You tried to tell the guys that it was really good, but by the odd looks that they gave you, you guessed that the mouthful of food muffled your voice too much for them to understand anything you said. 

“Thanks Cas,” Dean said as he took his own plate.

Cas held out the last plate to Sam, but the younger Winchester didn’t take it. “Cas, why was Crowley so certain that you need to come with us?”  
“Crowley's wrong. I'll be waiting right here. But please – accept this sandwich as a gesture of solidarity.” He all but pushed the plate into Sam’s chest.

****

You were in your room checking to make sure your travel bag was filled with everything you needed. Though, if you were being honest, you weren’t really sure what you would need. You weren’t even sure if you’d live long enough to need it. 

Someone cleared their throat and you turned to see Sam standing in the doorway. He gave you a tight-lipped smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” An awkward silence fell between the two of you and you realised that this was the first time you’d been alone together since the crypt. 

He swallowed and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. “So, what are you doing?”

You smiled and glanced at the bag on the bed behind you. “I don’t think small talk is going to make this any better, Sammy.”

He chuckled and scratched at the back of his neck. “Right.” He moved further into the room until he was less than an arm’s length from you. “Right. Straight to the point then. Have you, uh … have you given any more thought too …”

You shook your head. “No, actually. You know, with Crowley and everything … “

“Right. No I get it.” He looked at you. “Look …” He opened his mouth to continue but seemed at a loss for what to say. Then, finally, he sighed and shrugged before kissing you. 

It shocked you at first, so much so that for a moment you just stood there and did nothing as his lips pressed against yours. Then his hands came up to cup your face and suddenly your brain kicked into gear. You gripped his forearms and kissed him back, opening your mouth so his tongue could slip in and play against yours. It was slow and sweet and everything that you had expected it to be. 

He pulled back too soon and looked at you. “Have you thought about it now?”

“Uh …” You gave him a dazed look.

He smiled. “Same.”

Then he was kissing you again, except this time it wasn’t at all what you’d been expecting. It was rough and hungry and so needy that it had your toes curling against the carpet and your fingers twisting in his shirt. His hands were at the backs of your thighs a moment later and your legs wrapped around his waist automatically as he lifted you.  
“Ow,” you grumbled when he fell to the foot of the bed with you and you landed on your bag. 

“Sorry.” He pulled the bag out from under you and threw it to the side. You both laughed at the little hiccup as he wrapped and arm around your waist and pulled you up against the pillows with him. The fact that you were still underneath him the entire time just showed you how strong he was. 

He knelt between your thighs as he yanked his shirt over his head and threw it in the direction of the bag. Your hands flew to the button and zipper of your jeans but he pushed them away and undid them himself before hooking his fingers in the waist band and pulling them over your hips. They got caught at your ankles and you laughed as he struggled to pull them off. He gave you a mock glare as he collapsed back on top of you and wiped the smile from your face with a searing kiss. He hooked his hand behind your knee and pulled it up against his waist. You groaned when you realised that had given him the perfect angle to grind himself against you. With nothing but a thin strip of cotton between you and his rough jeans you had little hope of not becoming putty in his hands. 

His lips were at your neck suddenly and you tiled you head back so he could nip at your throat and leave a hickey below your ear. You panted and moaned under his touch. “How long do we …”

“Not long.” You hand clenched in his hair when his breath hit your ear. He seemed to realise that it was a hot spot for you because suddenly he wouldn’t leave it alone. 

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip and you bit back a groan as you forced your hand between your bodies to undo his jeans. “Guess we better be quick then.” He groaned and bit at the top of your breast where it had started to spill from your tank top. His hand snaked down into your underwear and you gasped when his fingers probed at your hot, slick flesh. “You said we didn’t have time.”

“We don’t. I just wanted to make sure you were ready.”

You chuckled and pulled his face back to yours for a quick kiss as you pushed his jeans over his hips with your feet. “I’m always ready for you.” He smiled, tugged your panties to  
the side and suddenly your breath caught in your throat. 

His eyes squeezed shut and his forehead pressed against yours as he let out a low groan at the feel of you wrapped around him. Your ankles hooked together at his lower back and you pressed your heels against him to urge him on. He started rocking against you and pulled him down for another kiss. He tried to keep it slow at first, so you had time to adjust, but it didn’t take long before his fingers were digging into your hip to keep you from squirming beneath him as his hips pounded against yours.

“Sammy,” you mewled. Your nails dug into his shoulders. He growled and nipped at your jaw. “I can’t cum.” His eyes met yours with a slight frown and his pace stuttered for a moment. “Not like this I mean.” 

Realisation came over his face and he came to a halt suddenly. You were about to ask him what he was doing but then his hands gripped your hips and he came to his knees again, careful not to slip out of you as he moved your hips up with him. He sat back on his heels to take the strain off your legs but you still had to work a little to make sure your ass didn’t slip off his thighs as he gave you a few more slow thrusts. He stopped again when he was happy with the angle and griped the front of your panties with two hands. 

“Sam!” you exclaimed as he tore them from your body. 

“I’ll get you new ones.” You didn’t get a chance to protest more because suddenly he was thrusting his thumb into your mouth and demanding that you suck it. You did as you were told and he pulled it back out when it was coated in your saliva. Your eyes closed and your head tilted back into the pillow when he pressed that same thumb to your clit and started to rub circles around it. “Is that what you meant?” he said.

You groaned and yanked down the top of your shirt and bra to palm your breasts in answer. He got the hint and began to pick up the same pace that he’d had earlier. You began thrusting against him and the room started to echo with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. No more than a few minutes later did his hand start to lose the perfect rhythm that it had had on your clit. 

You growled in frustration when you started to lose ground on the orgasm that had started building, he grabbed your wrist and put your hand in place of his. “I’m close. I can’t …” He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration and gripped your hips hard enough to bruise as he tried to keep his thrusts steady. 

You picked up where he’d left off and squeezed your own eyes shut as you tensed your abdominal muscles to try and force the orgasm to come faster rather than build slowly. You knew that Sam wouldn’t have left you high and dry – or high and wet in this case – but neither of you had time for him to get you off at the normal speed once he was finished. It worked and you managed to cum just before Sam. You thanked God that it didn’t turn into one of those crappy, ruined orgasms because of your efforts. It was intense and sent you flying right up to cloud nine. Thankfully, even though Sam seemed to be in just about the same state of mind as you, he had enough sense to pull out and go all over your stomach; and you suddenly felt grateful that your shirt had bunched up under your breasts. Then you mentally kicked yourself for forgetting to give him a condom.

“We should start carrying protection around,” you said. 

He panted out a laugh and fell forward, landing half on you and half on the bed. “I’m just happy there’s gonna be a next time.” You laughed and slapped at the side of his body. 

****

Dean pulled up just outside of Sucrocorp, He’d switched the headlights off so that anyone looking out a window wouldn’t see them in the dark. Now he switched the engine off and looked at you. You were sitting in the front seat, half squashed between him and Sam, with Sam’s laptop in your lap. 

“You got it yet?” Dean asked.

You tapped in a few more lines of code and then the surveillance on the inside of Sucrocorp popped up on the screen. “Here we go.” The footage showed that there was a meeting going on in the boardroom with Dick. “Thank you, Charlie, wherever you are.”

“Got you, Dick,” Dean said with a smirk. 

“Yeah, that's, uh, the second floor,” you hit the space bar to change to the next camera, “and – and then – what's that?”

“What the hell? Is that Dick?” You, Sam and Dean all frowned at the new footage of Dick sitting behind his desk. Despite the fact that he was also, apparently, in a boardroom meeting on the floor below him.

You hit the space bar again and the next footage showed Dick walking down a hallway. “And that's Dick,” Sam said. 

“Son of a bitch.” Dean looked at the building and then back at the lap top. “Cycle through again.” You did as he said but stopped when you noticed a truck pulling up a little ways down the street. You nudged Sam and he lifts his binoculars to his eyes. He pulled them away after a moment, frowned in confusion and then lifted them again. 

“That’s the maid from the motel,” he said, the binoculars still pressed to his face.

“What motel?” Dean said.

“The one that hit you with her cart?” you said. 

“Yeah,” Sam said. He paused a moment. “Oh, no. Oh, Bobby, what are you doing?”

“Wait,” Dean growled, looking out the windshield to the woman who just got out of the car wearing a pink maids uniform. “Are you saying that Bobby –“

“Look, just, uh, wait here.” Sam tossed the binoculars to Dean and moved to get out of the car.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“You got the weapon, and – and eyes on Dick, plural. I'll take care of Bobby.” Sam got out of the car and slammed the door.

“Sam! Hey!” Dean yelled.

“Shut up,” Sam called over his shoulder before running off after the maid.

Dean sighed a fell back against his seat. You cycled through the footage on the lap top a few more times, but when it became apparent that nothing was changing any time soon you balanced the laptop on the dash and turned your body towards Dean.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Without looking away from the black van that Sam had disappeared behind earlier he said, “Is it about the case?”

“No.”

“Then that’s your answer.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s about when you tried to kiss me.” He looked at you. “Yeah, that go your attention didn’t it,” you said dryly. 

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “What about it?” He looked back out his window.

“Well, Sam saw that. And before we came here, me and him … we …”

“Yeah, I heard.” He looked back at you with a smirk and gave you a once over. “You’re not as quiet as you think you are.”

You frowned and punched him in the arm. “Look, what I’m getting at is … back in the crypt, me and Sam had a talk. About the three of us. I joked that I couldn’t choose between either of you, and, uh … well, he seemed okay with it. He even suggested …”

“That we polyandry it up and become a real tight knit family?” Dean said with a smirk.

You shoved him in the shoulder and fell back in your seat. “Ugh, you make it sound so disgusting.”

He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you back into him. “Oh come on, Y/N I was just joking.” You sighed, arms still folded as you refused to look at him. “Look, alright, so maybe me and Sam … maybe we’ve talked about that.” He had your attention. “I mean, it’s not something we’ve done before. And it’s not like we braided each other’s hair and got all giggly about it. We just had an understanding. We had a plan for that problem, you know?”

You turned your body back to him, half-kneeling in your seat. His arm fell away from your shoulders and too the back of the seat. “Dean …” You stopped. You didn’t know what to say to that. What the hell were you meant to say to that? Did you say yes? Did you say no? Did you freak out? Did you just choose one and befriend the other? Were you even into Dean? 

“Of course, it would all come down to you,” Dean said. He was watching you very carefully, and apparently, whatever he saw didn’t scare him away from the conversation. “I mean, we were just trying to cover our bases. Prepare for whatever you wanted.” He reached his hand forward tentatively and stroked a thumb against your cheek. “What do you want, Y/N? Do you want Sam?” He shifted closer. “Do you want me?” He leaned his face forward. “Or do you wanna try door number three?” His eyes dropped to your mouth and suddenly his breath was hot against your face.

You put a hand on his chest and pushed him back. “Sam.” He looked surprised for a moment, but then his face hardened up. Not in a mean way, but in the kind of way that meant he was probably hurt by what you’d said. Then you realised what you’d said. “No, Dean. That’s not my answer. I just meant, there’s Sam.” You pointed out the window to where Sam was running towards the car carrying the maid in his arms. 

You both flew into action. Dean started the car and you scrambled out to open the back door for Sam. You sat in the back with the maid as Dean floored it. It didn’t take long for her to wake up. She’d freaked out, not that you didn’t expect it, but eventually she calmed enough to tell you that she just wanted to go home and see her family. Dean took her to the hospital instead.

****

Dean sat on the couch with his hands clasped, looking at Bobby’s flask where he’d set it on the coffee table. Sam was on the phone to the hospital where the maid had been dropped. You were sitting next to Dean, beer in hand and feet kicked up onto the coffee table. Sam hung up the phone, saying something about how the maid was checking out that night. 

“Well, that's positive,” Castiel said, his arms stacked with plates of sandwiches again. He held one out to Sam and put yours and Dean’s on the coffee table. 

Meg decided that the moment was the perfect time to berate the three of you. “Tell me again why you turned tail for some maid. You were right there.

“Shut up, Meg,” you said. Usually you had more patience than most for her quips, but today wasn’t the day. Not with the thought of Bobby looming over you. Or, more specifically, the thought of what had to be done to him now that he’d gone off the rails. 

She cocked an eyebrow at you, took a sip of her beer and said, “I thought you had love eyes for me. What changed?”

“I scratched the itch,” you said without looking at her.

She chuckled. “I don’t know what’s better, that you’re screwing a Winchester, or that I can’t tell which one you’re screwing ‘cause you mooch over the both of them all the time.”

“Maybe I’m screwing both. Maybe Crowley decided to join the fun. And maybe I should throw Castiel in there to sweeten the pot.” She didn’t like that. Castiel said nothing when she looked at him and she liked that even less. 

“Enough,” Sam growled when Meg went to open her mouth again. “Look, Dick made more Dicks.” You all looked at him. “He must've kept a chunk of the original Dick Roman somewhere. They'd all have to touch it.” 

Castiel went over to start drying the dishes he’d just washed and Dean said, “Hey, shifty, what's your problem?”

He turned to look at Dean. He did look a little suspicious, you noticed, but you disregarded it as soon as he opened his mouth. “Do we need a cat? Doesn't this place feel one species short?”

Dean rolled his eyes and you sighed. “You got anything to say on the topic of Dicks? Crowley was pretty sure that you could help,” you said.

He went serious all of a sudden, and you got a glimpse of the old Cas in his face. “I can't help. You understand? I can't. I destroyed... everything, and I will destroy everything again. Can we please just leave it at that?”

You sank back in the couch, already giving up on speaking to him, but apparently Dean had other plans. “No,” he said as he stood up. “No, we can't.”

Sam stepped forward, lifting a hand as though to ward his brother off. “Dean …”

Dean just raised his voice and snapped over the top of Sam’s warning. “We can't leave it. You let these friggin' things in. So you don't get to make a sandwich. You don't get a damned cat. Nobody cares that you're broken, Cas. Clean up your mess!”

Cas put down the dish he was drying, his face serious, and walked towards Dean. You stood up as well, putting your beer bottle down on the table and coming around it to stand near Sam so you could jump between Dean and Cas if it came to that. 

He looked at Dean a moment before saying, “You know... we should play Twister.” He disappeared. 

“Nice,” Meg said. “You scared off the Empire's only hope.”

Dean rolled his eyes and turned to look at her. “Meaning?”

“It occur to you every one of those things was in Cas? He knows them. He can see past the meat suits.”

You and Sam shared a look. “So, he'll be able to spot the real... fake Dick Roman,” you said.

“Gold star, sugarpants. Too bad he's Fruit Loops. You might've had a chance.” You hear a noise behind you and turn to find that Cas is playing Twister on the floor.

****

It was night and Meg and Cas had gone off somewhere. You were leaning against the back of the couch, trying to stay awake as you brainstormed with the boys to come up with a way to spot the real Dick. Dean was sitting on the couch, watching old interviews of Dick on Sam’s laptop to see if he could spot a tell, or mannerism that only the real Dick had.

“There's no real point in looking for a tell,” he said. “They all downloaded Dick's brain. They've all got the same tells.”

“All right,” Sam said as he went to stand a little ways in front of you, “then maybe the question is, what would the real Dick be doing?”

Bobby appeared near Sam and you straightened up. He looked like hell. “Is that the best you can do? Idjits.”

“Bobby. We didn't know if you’d, uh –“

“Well, you should've. You got the flask. Dumb. You should've burned it right off.”

Anger burned inside of your stomach suddenly and you took a step towards him. “Don’t blame them,” you growled. 

“Y/N.” Dean leaped from the couch and came to your side.

“No.” You pushed his hand away when he raised it towards you. You advanced on Bobby again, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You don’t get to blame them. You chose to stay here. You chose to not die, even though you knew exactly what you would become.”

“Y/N.” It was Sam this time. He came forward and wrapped an arm around the front of your shoulders, pulling you away from Bobby towards the back of the couch again. He leaned back against it this time, and kissed the top of your head when you leaned back against him. 

Bobby gave you a sympathetic look. “You’re right.”

“Bobby,” Dean said.

“I'm still jonesing to go back... grab some poor bastard, kamikaze 'em going after Dick.” He rubbed his arm, almost hugging himself. “It's bad.” The laptop caught his eye, and he didn’t seem to be able to pull his eyes from the camera shot of Dick that just popped up. The laptop closed on it’s own suddenly, making you jump. He looked at Sam. “Let's be real. I damn near killed you. And that woman.”

You hugged Sam’s arm closer to your body as you remembered what he’d told you about what went down between him and Bobby when he’d been possessing the maid. “It wasn't your fault, Bobby,” Sam said, “not really.”

“Right. That's just what ghosts turn into. I really bet the farm I could outsmart that.”

“What's it feel like?” you asked.

“What? Going vengeful?” You nodded. He considered it a moment before answering. “It's an itch you can't scratch out.” You pressed your lips together, feeling sorrow replace the anger that had been in your stomach earlier. Sam’s arm tightened around you. “Look... I'm done. Go get Dick. But don't do it 'cause you think it'll scratch the itch. Do it 'cause it's the job. And when it's your time... go.”

****

The coals burned hot in the bowl on the table. Sam and Dean stood by it, sharing a long, meaningful look with Bobby. You stood a little back, feeling like you were intruding on a moment. 

“Here's to... running into you guys on the other side,” Bobby said. “Only... not too soon. All right?” He looked at you. “And you keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t forget what I told you.” You nodded, shifting anxiously on your feet. 

Dean and Sam don’t say anything as Dean throws the flask onto the coals. But neither of them look away as Bobby burns up and disappears. 

****

You were in bed with Sam the next day. Dean and Castiel had gone off to run an errand together after the plan to take down Dick had been sorted, so you and Sam had taken the time to spend quality time together. And by quality time you meant have sex as much as you possibly could. Turned out neither of you had the stamina needed to keep up the marathon as long as you’d hoped. So you both just laid there and studied each others faces. Taking in and remembering as much of each other and the moment as you could. His arm was thrown over your waist and your thigh was thrown over his. You’d pressed your bodies as close together as you could and you’d spent the last half an hour playing your fingers through his hair as he tried to stay awake. 

“Your hair’s really soft,” you mumbled.

“Hm.” His eyes were closed now, but his fingers were still stroking up and down your back. “Your skin’s softer.”

“Yeah. They used to call me Sally Soft Skin out on the streets.” 

He opened his eyes and tried to frown at you but he couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up his throat. His lips were on yours before he stopped and you groaned, half in want and half in exhaustion. 

He gave an answering moan in return. “I know. I wanna keep going all day and night. My body’s failed me.”

You chuckled. “We’ve got a while yet. Besides, this isn’t our last day together.”

“It isn’t?” he said. 

“No. I’m gonna slay the big bad dragon. And you’re gonna be my damsel in distress.” 

He smiled and rolled you to your back, lips seeking out yours again. “Is that so?”

“Uh huh.” He was pushing inside of you a moment later. You groaned again. “I thought your body was failing you.”

“I guess I had some pent up energy hidden away somewhere,” he said with a grin. 

You hummed in appreciation and let your thighs fall further apart as his body pressed against yours and your hips rocked together at a slow pace. 

****

Turned out Dean had accomplished a lot more on his errand than he’d originally intended. Cas had decided that he was going to help after all. You’d been a little dubious at first, but he’d held it together well enough. Of course you’d only managed to sneak in the back with Sam and Dean so far, so there was still an opportunity for him to freak and poof out of there. Not to mention you were the one stuck looking for the real Dick with him while Sam and Dean split off from the two of you near the exit to go and find Kevin.  
You and Cas look around a corner in the building slowly, then start to head down the hallway when you see that the coast is clear. A little ways down the hall is a glass panel in the wall that looks into the boardroom. You press yourself against the wall and slowly peek your head out to glance in. Dick – or one of them anyways – is sitting at the head of the boardroom table reading through a small pile of papers. Castiel was standing patiently behind you and you motioned him forward as you moved back. He took up the position that you’d just been in and took a long hard look at Dick. He turned to you and shook your head. You pressed your lips together in irritation; you’d known it would be too much to ask that the real Dick be the first one you came across. 

It took a few more hit and misses, but finally you came across the real Dick in a lab below ground. He had his back to you, tasting a creamer that he held in his hand. “You know,” Dick said, “I think this might end up the slickest little genocide in history.”

The Leviathan that stood behind him packing creamers into a box got a proud look on his face. “Thank you, sir.”

“Just sayin'. I smell a promotion.”

You took out the Leviathan before he got a chance to respond to that. Guess he wasn’t getting the promotion after all. Dick turned at the sound of the body hitting the floor. He looked at the decapitated head and then at you. You stared right back, machete in hand. 

“Little abrupt,” Dean said with a smile, “but okay.” You sheathed the machete and Dick looked at Castiel. He was standing a little behind and to the right of you, Power Cleaner in hand. “Castiel. Good to see you again. Thanks for the ride into paradise.” Neither of you say anything as you pull the sharpened, bloodstained bone that was meant to end all of this out of your coat pocket. Dick looks at it. “And good on you! Pulling that together – A-plus.”

“Oh, you don't think this'll work, do you?” you growled as you stepped over the Leviathan’s body and within arm’s reach of Dick. “You trust that demon?”  
He’s still smiling. You hate that. “You sure I'm even me, Y/N?” 

“No.” You nod towards Castiel. “But he is.” Dick looks at Castiel as his smile fades slightly. “See, here's the thing when dealing with Crowley” – you waved the bone – “he will always find a way to bone you.” Dean would have been proud. 

“This meeting's over.” Dick advanced on you and Castiel pushed past to attack him. Before he even got a fist up, Dick had him by the front of his trench coat and threw him into the wall behind him. He turned back to you but you’d taken his brief moment of distraction to ready the bone and plunged it into his chest the moment he was facing you again.  
You were surprised to say the least. You hadn’t expected to actually be able to stab him with it, that’s why the bone had been fake. You’d figured that you’d pretend to go after him with that one and then catch him off guard with the real one when he thought that you’d failed. 

Dick looked down at the bone jutting out of his chest. He yanked it out in one smooth motion that showcased his strength and snapped it in half before smiling at you. “Did you really think you could trump me?” 

“Honestly?” You pulled the real bone from your pocket. “No.”

Castiel had recovered and was standing behind Dick. He grabbed Dick’s hair and yanked his head back just as you’d finished speaking and you plunged the bone-stake straight through the side of Dick’s neck. The end of it came through the other side and he screamed just as Sam, Kevin and Dean came barrelling through the swinging doors on the other side of the room. They stopped just inside when they saw that you didn’t need the help. 

Dick’s eyes locked with yours as he began gurgling around the bone. “Figured we'd have to catch you off guard,” you said.

His face transformed into a Leviathan’s, all pointed teeth in an enormous mouth with a protruding tongue. He roared briefly before his face returned to its normal state. Black goo began to run out of his nose and he grunted in pain. Then he smiled and a wave of energy pulsed from his body. You stepped back, suddenly feeling very nervous about being so close to his body. His hands started to shake as the energy waves pulsated faster from his body in time with a loud, accelerating heartbeat. 

“Y/N?” Sam growls by the doors. You look at him. The waves of energy suddenly seemed to suck back in and concentrate on Dick’s body. Sam moved forward to pull you away but Dean had already beaten him to it. His hand landed on your shoulder and he began pulling you away just as Dick explodes into a shower of black goo.

****

Your body hurt. A lot. Like you’d been hit by a truck and lived to tell the tale. Though, with the way your throat felt, you weren’t sure you could tell it either. 

“Wake up.” Castiel’s voice sounded deeper than usual. More urgent. You opened your eyes and it took a moment for them to adjust to the darkness. You weren’t in the lab anymore. You were in the middle of a heavily wooded forest. “Good,” Cas said when you sat up. “We need to get out of here. I can’t wake up Dean. Maybe you can.”

You frown in confusion and look around in disorientation. Then focus on Dean rather than try to figure out what the hell was going on. He’s lying next to you out cold. “Where are we?” you ask Cas as you crawl over to Dean and tap his face. 

“You don't know?”

You check Dean’s pulse to make sure that he’s actually alive, letting out a relieved breath when you feel the strong, steady beat. “Last I remember, we ganked Dick.”  
“And where would he go in death?”

You frown up at Cas but he wasn’t looking at you. Rather, his eyes were darting around the trees that surrounded the three of you. “Wait. Are you telling me...?”

“Every soul here is a monster.” There was a rustling in the bushes nearby. You moved a little closer to Dean and started shaking his shoulders. “This is where they come to prey upon each other for all eternity.”

“We're in Purgatory? How do we get out?” You stood up and looked around. Dean didn’t seem to be waking up any time soon. 

“I'm afraid we're much more likely to be ripped to shreds.”

Your heart lurched in fear. You turned away from Cas and looked behind you when you suddenly had a chill run up your spine. You could see two large, distorted figures crawling through the trees, they turned to you and you saw they each had two large, red, glowing eyes. You took a step back, trying to swallow down the fear that threatened to paralyse you. 

You spun back around. “Cassie, I think we better –“ He wasn’t there. You spun in circles, trying desperately to find him. But Castiel was no where to be seen. “Cassie?” Your breathing began to speed up and panic set in as you dropped to your knees beside Dean again. You shook him again. “Dean, wake up.” You pulled his shoulders up into your lap and hugged him to you as you started rocking back and forth. More dark figures with red eyes began moving in the dark and your voice cracked as you begged Dean to wake up. You were alone again. Just like you had been as child, stuck in a dark room, with a dark figure lurking outside your door.


	12. Resurfacing Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting back from Purgatory should have meant getting back to your life on the road with the Winchesters. And it did. Too an extent. Only this time Castiel was gone. You and Dean were together. Crowley had Kevin. And Sam hit a dog. Will you be able to get past the crushing guilt of losing your friend? Could you forgive Sam for deciding to live with another woman rather than look for you and Dean? And will you cope with the plan of putting Crowley away forever knowing that he did look for you?

It was freezing, and it was dark. You missed that about Purgatory already. It was never cold. It was never hot. It just was. And yes, it got dark, but there was never any eerie mystery about it. You always knew exactly what was out there. You always knew exactly what you needed to do. You needed to kill. You needed to survive. The real world wasn’t as simple as that. Wasn’t as pure. There were rules. 

You almost forgot those rules. If Dean hadn’t been there, then you would have killed the couple in the tent. You guessed he’d never fully let go of the real world. Not the way you did. So when the blinding light faded and you were dragged back into the old world that had become so unfamiliar, you let Dean take the lead.

The woman had stayed in the tent and pushed her boyfriend out into the night. His fear was palpable, and the torch shook as he shone the light on the trees around him. His shoulders relaxed and he gave a nervous chuckle and turned back to the tent. He told his girlfriend that it had only been a deer, but you knew he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince her. He screamed when he turned and saw you. You could only imagine what you must look like. There were no mirrors in Purgatory. There were no showers either. He yelped again when Dean stepped out of the shadows and stood beside you. He had an axe-like weapon gripped in his hands. You held a similar one. 

“Where are we?” Dean asked the man.

“What?” The girlfriend came out of the tent and you pulled your gun from your waistband and aimed it had her. It didn’t have any bullets left, but she didn’t need to know that. 

“Hey, hey.” The man pulled his girlfriend behind him and held his hands up to show that he was unarmed. 

“Where's the road?” Dean growled.

The man pointed to his right. “Twelve miles, that way.”

Dean ran in that direction without another word. You stayed behind a moment, eyes sweeping over the equipment strewn over the ground, and the gun still aimed in their general direction. You spotted a packed backpack and snatched it up with the hope that it might have food and water, before you ran off after Dean.

****

“We won’t be staying the night,” Dean said as he came through the motel door and locked it behind him. He had a plastic bag in his hand, no doubt filled with candy bars that he’d stolen from the vending machine just outside. He pulled the blinds down slightly and looked out the window. 

“They renting out the room?” you said as you pulled the towel from your body and started rifling through the stolen bag on the bed to pull out some fresh clothes you’d swiped from the room a few doors down. The woman staying there had been about your size. And though you weren’t a fan of just wearing shorts and a tank top, it was better than the flowery dress she’d had. 

Dean turned to you just as you finished pulling on the tank top and doing up the shorts. “Don’t know for sure. But a car just pulled in and this is the only vacant room they have.”

You sighed. “That’s what we get for thinking we could break into a motel for the night.”

“Would you prefer the park bench?”

“We’ve slept on worse.” He grunted and came to you. His hands going straight to your hips and pulling you easily against his body. It was as though he’d done it a million times before. And he had. Neither of you had ever thought you’d actually make it out of Purgatory alive, so you didn’t bother wasting time on dancing around your feelings for each other. “We’ve fucked on worse too,” you mumbled. He grunted again, but this time it was approving and his mouth was pressed against yours. His hands slid down to squeeze your ass so tightly that he brought you up to the tips of your toes with the force of it. 

“You smell like lavender now,” he said when he pulled his lips from yours and buried his nose in your hair.

“It’s the shampoo and body wash. You don’t like it?”

“You smelled like strawberries before Purgatory,” he said in answer. 

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” You dropped back to the flats of your feet and his hands slid from your ass back to your hips. You tugged at his fresh flannel shirt and brushed off his shoulders. “I can’t believe we’re back.”

“Yeah.” He reached up and stroked a thumb across your cheek. “You kept me sane in there, you know that?”

The corners of your lips tilted up in a small smile. “We saved each other, Dean. I just wish –”

“I know.” He cupped your face in both his hands and forced you to look at him. “What’s done is done. We got Benny out. Let’s focus on him right now. Okay?”

****

It was four days before the two of you finally ended up in Clayton, Louisiana. You’d managed to catch a ride in the back of an orange pickup. The driver gave the both of you directions and you hiked your bag up on your shoulder and started down the winding, dusty back roads to your destination. The closer to the cemetery the two of you got, the more Dean’s arm began bothering him. 

By the time you’d made it to Benny’s grave night had fallen. He was buried under a windmill, not far from a stone pillar marked ‘Lafitte’. You took three paces from the windmill and jumped a little on the dirt there. It felt softer than the rest. You nodded at Dean and he came forward with a shovel.

“This better be you, you son of a bitch,” you said as you took a step back and let Dean go to work. It was a shallow grave, so it took Dean all of ten minutes to hit bone. He crawls out of the grave and whispering begins echoing through the night as he stands. 

“All right,” he said as he rolled up the sleeve of his left arm. You pulled your jacket closer to your body as a cold breeze whipped through the trees. Thankful that you’d finally landed yourself some warm clothes better suited to your tastes. The whispering got louder and Dean’s forearm began pulsing and glowing red. “Hold on, you bastard.” He pulled out a large knife and cut deep into the pulsing flesh. He held his arm over the grave and you began chanting Latin as his blood dripped onto the skeleton. The blood begins to spark and there’s a bright flash before Dean is on the ground panting. You were on your knees beside him in a second, gripping his chin tightly and forcing him to look at you. “I’m okay,” he said. 

Dean was still gasping in pain as he rolled his sleeve down, but you took him at his word and stood away from him. Your attention landed on the man standing a few yards behind the two of you. Benny, in all his scruffiness. You never would admit to him that he just seemed like a big cuddly bear. He might show you his fangs otherwise. 

“Wow. That was fast,” you said.

Benny smiled. “No thanks to you. The hell took you so long?”

Dean grunted as he got to his feet, his hand still wrapped around the cut on his forearm. “You're welcome.” Benny’s smile turned to a grin before he cracked his neck. 

“Everything working?” Dean asked.

“Good enough.” He opened his mouth and you watched as his fangs descended and retracted again. “So... what now?”

“Like we talked about,” you said. 

Benny gave you a solemn look and nodded. “Then this is goodbye.”

“Keep your nose clean, Benny. You hear me?” Dean said. His voice was steady but he didn’t look any happier about leaving Benny than you did. 

Benny nodded and walked forward to shake Dean’s hand. “We made it, brother.” He smiled. “I can't believe it.” He laughed and pulled Dean in for a hug. 

“You and me both,” Dean said with his own smile.

Benny turned to you next and you laughed as he pulled you into a bear hug. Lifting you from your feet and spinning you in a circle. Once you were back on your feet his hands landed on your shoulders and he held you at arm’s length as he gave you a once over. “If I’d known there was a pretty little thing under all that dirt I woulda sweeped you up myself.”

“Hey,” Dean growled. “Watch it.”

Benny shot him an amused glance but you all knew that it was just play. “My personality not good enough for ya, Benny boy?” you said with a laugh. 

“Aw honey, you’re a little too much for me to handle, and not enough damsel in distress.” He chucked you under the chin and you gave him a playful push. Then you looked at him, and knew that this was the end. 

****

Rufus’s cabin looked much the same way it did when you’d left it last. And that was the problem. You’d expected to see little bits of Sam around. Dishes in the sink, his laptop on the table. An awful salad-thing in the fridge. But there was nothing. You entertained the thought that maybe he couldn’t bare to live there after you and Dean disappeared. That maybe he’d been living out of motels instead of the place the three of you had been living in for months. But all the lore books were there and untouched for at least a year. It looked as though Sam had never come back to the cabin after the night that Dick died. You wondered what he’d been doing for the last year. Had he been hunting? Had he been looking for you and Dean?

A crash out in the lounge room had you rushing out of the kitchen, but you stopped short when you saw Sam on his back and Dean hovering over him. Pouring holy water and borax all over him before cutting his arm and standing up, motioning for Sam to do the same to him. 

Sam got to his feet with a hand clasped over the cut on his arm, shaking his head at his brother. A bewildered expression on his face. “I don't need to, Dean. I know it's you.”

“Damn it, Sammy!” Dean growled as he splashed himself with holy water and borax before cutting his own arm with the silver knife when Sam, once again, refused to do it. 

“Dean, can I just say hello?”

Dean bound the cut in his arm and smiled. “All right. Well... let's do this.”

Sam looked at him a moment. “I don't know whether to give you a hug or take a shower.”

Dean laughed and you leaned against the doorframe, watching on silently. “Come here.” They hugged and you almost felt like you were intruding. You thought it was funny, if a little sad, that even after all you’d been through with the brother’s, you still had moments where you felt like you didn’t really belong with them. 

Sam stepped away from Dean. “Dude. You're...” his voice trailed off when his eyes fell on you at the doorframe. He looked completely shocked by your presence, not like he had been when he saw Dean. This kind of shock, it was … different. And you realised that up until that moment he’d forgotten about you. He didn’t smile at you, just looked at you like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. You gave him a tight-lipped smile in return, but said nothing. 

He walked towards you, but you pushed off the doorframe and took a step back when he reached out to you. His head jerked back and he swallowed as he watched your face. “What? Not even a hug?” You looked at Dean, but he didn’t give you any sign on what to do. He was leaving it all up to you. “Y/N, I’ve spent the last year thinking you were dead and gone. And – and you can’t even look at me?” 

You looked at him just to prove him wrong. That old spark coming back. You always liked fighting Sam at every turn. You sighed at the puppy dog look and gave him another tight-lipped smile. “No. You’re right. Sorry. Just … still a little freaked I guess.” You opened your arms and took a step forwards. He bent to hug you immediately. He squeezed you tight and buried his face in your neck as though he were scared to let you go. But all you could think about was just how long it had taken him to forget you. He pulled back after what felt like forever, his hands cupping your face as he studied you until Dean finally cleared his throat. 

“What the hell happened to you guys?” Sam asked as you stepped away from him and went to Dean. You expected him to put an arm around you, put a hand on your hip, anything. He always did. But not this time, and you realised that it probably wasn’t the best time to fill in Sam on your new relationship status. It’d be too much at once for him to handle.   
“I guess standing too close to exploding Dick sends your ass straight to Purgatory,” you said, and could practically feel Dean holding in his chuckle. He was still a sucker for puns. Purgatory couldn’t take that away from him, even if it tried. 

Sam’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped. “You were in Purgatory? For the whole year?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “time flies when you're running for your life.”

“Well, how'd you get out?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but Dean spoke over the top of you. “I guess whoever built that box didn't want us in there any more than we did.”

“What does that mean?”

“We’re here, okay?” You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes and elbowing Dean in the ribs. Barely back and he was already keeping secrets from his brother. 

“What about Cas?” Sam asked. “Was he there?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you felt Dean’s hand squeeze your shoulder. “Cas didn't make it,” you said softly.

“What exactly does that mean?” Sam asked as he took a step forward.

You swallowed and wrung your hands together at the memory of what happened to him. “Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he... just let go.”

“So Cas is dead? You saw him die?”

“I saw enough.”

“So, then what, you're not sure?”

“I said I saw enough, Sam,” you growled. You wiped your hands on your jeans and looked at the ground. Dean’s other hand came up to your shoulder but you shook him off and went to sit at the table. 

“Right,” Sam said softly. “Look, I'm sorry.”

“Me too,” Dean said, pulling his brother’s attention away from you so you could mourn in peace. “So you – I can't believe you're actually here.” He went into the kitchen and pulled three beers from the fridge. You cupped your hands around the bottle that he gave you, but you didn’t feel like drinking it. You didn’t feel the craving that you thought you would. Everything felt too odd. And not in a good way. “You know that half your numbers are out of service? Felt like I was leaving messages in the wind.” Dean sat beside you at the table, slipping a hand under the table to squeeze your thigh in reassurance. He sat Sam’s beer down on the table opposite him but Sam stayed standing. 

“Yeah,” Sam said with hesitation, “I-I-I didn't get your messages.”

“How come?” Dean asked.

“Probably because I ditched the phones.”

“Because...?” You didn’t need to hear Sam say anything to know what the answer was. In fact, you didn’t want to hear Sam say the answer out loud. But he did anyway.   
“I guess, um... I guess something happened to me this year, too.” He shrugged. “I don't hunt anymore.” He gave his brother a tentative smile but he refused to look at you. Your gut twisted and your instincts went wild. 

Dean chuckled and sat back in his chair. “Yeah. And Sasha Grey's gone legit.” Sam sighed. “What?”

“Nothing. Um, she did a Soderbergh movie.”

“What?”

“She did a Soderbergh –“

“No. You, Sam. You quit?”

Sam hesitated for a moment. Still refused to look you in the eye. “Yeah. Yeah, I – you were gone... both of you. Cas was gone, Bobby was dead. I mean, Crowley even shipped off Kevin and Meg to parts unknown.”

“So you just turned tail on the family business.”

Sam gave him a wry smile. “Nothing says "family" quite like the whole family being dead.”

“We weren’t dead.” Dean’s voice had gone eerily calm, and he wasn’t smiling any more. He stood up and walked around Sam. “In fact, we were knee-deep in God's armpit killing monsters, which, I thought, is what we actually do.” He turned back to look at Sam. 

“Yes, Dean. And far as I knew, what we do is the thing that got every single member of my family killed. I had no one – no one. And for the first time in my life, I was completely alone. And, honestly, I-I didn't exactly have a roadmap. So, yeah, I-I fixed up the Impala, and I just... drove.

“After you looked for us,” Dean said. You closed your eyes in dread, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Dean finally realised what you’d understood the moment Sam saw you. Sam said nothing, and the knot in your stomach tightened. “Did you look for us, Sam?” Sam looked away from him. “Good. That's good.” Dean smiled, but you knew it wasn’t real. You stood and went to his side, putting a hand on his chest in a silent warning not to start a fight. “No, we – we... always told each other not to look for each other. That's smart. Good for you.” He went silent, and for a moment you thought that he might actually stop there. You were wrong. “Of course, we always ignored that because of our deep, abiding love for each other, but not this time, right, Sammy?”

Sam sighed. “Look, I'm still the same guy, Dean.”

“Well, bully for you. I'm not.”

Dean left the cabin and finally Sam managed to look at you. Your teeth were clenched and you were trying to force the tears back. “You know … that first night I was … terrified. I couldn’t get Dean to wake up. Cassie was gone. We were surrounded by monsters and I had no idea what to do. Every night after that, for a long time, I was terrified that Dean would go to sleep and wouldn’t wake up again. I was terrified that I would end up on my own again. But you know what got me through it?” You looked up at him as a tear rolled down your cheek. He looked guilty as hell and that made you glad. You wanted him to hurt as much as you had. “I kept telling myself that you were out there finding a way to get us out. Even when we got out, I thought, Sam will be so happy. I thought you would be so exhausted from all the work you must have been doing. But no. You just forgot about us. You forgot about me.”

He reached out for you then but you wrenched your arm from his grip. “Y/N, I didn’t –”

“Bullshit.”

****

It was night before Dean finally came back to the cabin. You were rifling through a box filled with Sam’s old phones. You picked out his main phone and plugged a pair of headphones into it. Dean collapsed onto the couch next to you. He didn’t tell you where he’d been and you didn’t ask because it didn’t matter. You trusted him, knew him better than you did before Purgatory. His hand slipped under your shirt and he ran a large hand up and down your back as he watched you fiddle with the phone. 

Sam was at the stove cooking something in a pot. He turned to the two of you when Dean sat down. “You want some dinner?”

“Pass,” Dean said. You didn’t say anything, just put an ear bud in your ear and began listening to the countless voicemails on Sam’s phone to see if he missed anything important.   
Eventually Sam sat down to eat his dinner, and the entire time you could feel him looking at you. For ten minutes he sat there, alternating his attention from you, to the bowl in front of him and back again. Until finally you hit pause on the phone and gave him a hard look. 

“What?” Sam asked when he looked back up and saw that you were looking at him now. Dean’s hand on your back paused and he watched the two of you. 

You pulled the earphones from the phone, put it on speaker and pressed play again so the brothers could hear what you’d just listened to. Kevin’s voice. “Sam Winchester, it's Kevin Tran. Crowley had me in this warehouse, and I just escaped. I don't know where I am. And I don't know if he or – or any other demons are still after me. I need your help. Call me back. It's Kevin Tran.”

Sam had been shifting uncomfortably throughout the entire message, when it ended he asked, “When was that?”

You didn’t tell him. Instead, you played the next message in the list. “Sam Winchester. It's Kevin Tran. I called you a week ago. Call me, please. I don't know what the hell I'm doing out here, man.”

Sam nodded and put down his spoon. He stood up and walked around the table to lean back against it. Dean was sitting forward next to you now, forearms braced on his knees as he looked at the ground. Everything about him appeared calm, but you could tell by the tick of his jaw that he was as pissed as you were. 

“Okay,” Sam said. “I get it. So, what, you want to... strategize or something?”

Again, you said nothing. Just played the next message. “Sam, it's Kevin. I'm... Whoo! I'm so good.”

“Is he...drunk?”

You continued with the stern look as the message played through. “Three months since you ditched my ass. Haven't slept for more than four hours a night. It's all good in the hood. Uh, if you're still alive, eat me.” You rewound it and let it play back through the ‘eat me’ part. Sam said nothing and you went onto the final message. “Sam, it's been six months. I can only assume you're dead. If not, don't try and reach me. You won't be able to. I won't be calling this number anymore.”

Dean stayed where he was, but you stood up and took a step towards Sam. He was still leaning against the table, his chin was dropped to his chest and he was looking up through his lashes at you like a guilty child. The anger bubbled in your stomach but you kept a tight leash on it. 

“He was our responsibility,” you said through clenched teeth. You threw his phone at his chest and he flinched as he stopped it from falling with his hand. “And you couldn't answer the damn phone.”

****

You anger had cooled to a simmer about an hour later. Dean’s fingers combing through your hair had been the main reason for it. His feet were kicked up on the coffee table and you were curled up on the couch with your head in his lap as he read a book. Your eyes were closed but you were far from falling asleep. They opened again when Sam spoke.  
“All right, listen to this – Kevin's last message. Listen to the background.” Kevin’s last message played through the room and you forced yourself to listen past the dismal sound in his voice. “Hear that?” 

“Sounds like a bus station,” you said as you sat up and looked at him. 

“Right.” Sam played the message again, but he muted out Kevin’s voice until all you could hear was a woman saying ‘last stop – Centreville’. 

You stood up and walked around the couch. Dean followed suit but leaned against the back of it and pulled you back into his chest before you could reach Sam. Seeing as Dean had been so careful to avoid being extra affectionate, you were guessing he did it because he wasn’t entirely convinced that you weren’t still pissed at his brother. Dean was still just as angry, but then you had more of a tendency to lash out in the most hurtful ways that you could manage. 

“Where’s Centreville?” you asked.

“Michigan,” Sam said. He looked determined, and you knew it was because he felt guilty for failing Kevin. 

“Why would Kevin be there?”

“Because...” He tapped at the keyboard on his laptop and clicked the mouse before turning it so you could see the screen and the picture of a woman that was on it. “His high-school girlfriend goes to college there.”

“That's thin,” Dean said.

“It's the best lead we got,” Sam said.

“We?” you growled.

Sam’s eyes dropped to the table, but he forced himself to look back up at you. “You were right,” he said. “He was our responsibility. So... let's find him, okay?”

****

Dean’s body was warm against yours. Even under the thin sheets, his naked skin made you feel like you were sleeping next to a radiator. You didn’t care. What mattered was that you were right there next to him. His strong, steady heartbeat was like a lullaby against your ear. And his fingers stroking lovingly up and down your back had your eyelids drooping as you felt your guards start to drop and your naked body relax against him. 

“It feels good to be back in our bed,” you said softly into the quiet dark. 

“Our bed, huh?” His voice rumbled in his chest. A rough contrast to your softness. “Last I checked you preferred having your own bed. Something about having all the sheets to yourself.”

You chuckled and shifted as he rolled to his side to face you. “I guess spending a year in Purgatory really put things into perspective.”

“Is that right?” he purred as he nuzzled your neck.

You nodded and cuddle in against him, throwing a leg over his waist. “Yeah.” You ran your fingers over his forehead in a move to brush his hair away from his face. You used to do it to Sam all the time, but you realised too late that it was Dean and not Sam you were lying next to. Dean’s hair didn’t fall in his face like his brother’s did. You should have felt guilty but you didn’t. You were in love with Dean. Nothing was going to change that. Not even being in love with Sam. “I guess having all the sheets just doesn’t seem as important as waking up next to you every morning.”

He watched you a moment before saying, “Every morning, huh?”

You smiled. “Yeah. Every morning.”

He kissed you then, with all the passion and gentleness that he was capable of. His hand pressed against your back, holding you to him tightly as though he were afraid that you might pull away from him.

****

You crawled into the back of the Impala, hands running over the leather as you took in the bittersweet feeling of being back in it. The car rocked slightly as Dean slammed the trunk shut and he and Sam got in the front. 

“Well,” Dean said as he looked the car over, “no visible signs of douchery – I'll give you that.” Sam chuckled and Dean looked into the back seat and sniffed. “Smell like dog to you?” He sniffed again and looked at you.

You gave him an incredulous look and said. “Don’t look at me. I showered.”

Dean looked at Sam. Sam inhaled deeply. “In the car?”

“You tell me,” Dean said. Sam shrugged and Dean let out a suspicious grunt, but he started the car and said nothing more on the matter. 

****

Palm Motel. That had been the choice of stay. It wasn’t a half bad place. You’d seen far worse. They even had a vending machine stocked full of candy, just like the one Dean had broken into. You stood there and stared at the chocolate bars, and wondered if Dean had felt the same way you did right then when he raided the last vending machine. You couldn’t even remember how the damn thing worked. The buttons – even the numbers – it was all strange to you. It felt like you should know them. That it should be familiar to you but you just couldn’t grasp that thin veil of reality. It felt a lot like deja vu. Even your reflection in the glass felt like looking at a stranger. 

You jumped and spun around when you heard a gun go off, reaching back for your own weapon. Your heart was in your throat and adrenaline coursed through your veins. That feeling was no stranger to you, and you welcomed it with open arms. The comfort faded away almost instantly when you realised that the sound had been two little boys running around the parking lot shooting at each other with fake guns. Now that you knew what it was, you couldn’t understand how you could mistake their fake guns for a real one. You were just that on edge. That eager to jump back into the fray. 

You vaguely heard the Impala door shut, but you kept your eyes on the little boys rather than watch the brothers carry the bags into the motel room. 

“You’re dead,” one of the boys yelled in frustration as he continued shooting at his friend who was adamant that he wasn’t. Your heartbeat sped up again as you remembered the many times you and Dean had close calls with death – again – in Purgatory. Then you remembered Benny, and how he’d saved you. Of course you could have handled the vamp yourself, but Benny always liked to tell the story of how he saved your ass. You and Dean had been tracking a vamp that you’d believed had info on where Cas was. You’d both split up to cut him off when he ran and you’d managed to get to him first, slamming him up against a tree and pressing your blade to his throat when he tried to attack you. 

“Now you can make this real easy for yourself,” you’d said, a predatory smile on your face. “Where's the angel?”

The vamp had bared his fangs and laughed at you. “You're her. The human. Isn’t there another one of you running around here somewhere?”

“Where's the angel?” you growled. 

“I don't know.”

You smirked. He’d just signed his own death warrant. You drove the blade straight through his arm and into the tree, holding him in place. Then you stepped back and looked to where he’d dropped his own weapon. It was an odd, home-made thing. With a stick for a handle and an obsidian looking rock for a blade, it seemed sharp enough though, so you picked it up and spun, slicing it right through his neck and severing his head. Sharper than you thought. It didn’t take you long to decide that you were keeping it. 

You turned to look for Dean and suddenly found yourself being knocked off your feet by the force of a body. You landed hard on you back and fought through the feeling of being winded as you held your forearm up against the second vamps throat to keep him from tearing into your neck. You reached out with your other hand for the blade that you’d dropped when he’d hit you, but your fingertips barely touched it. Suddenly a black figure blew over the top of you and the vamp was gone. You leaped to your feet and went straight for your new weapon. Only to find a man straddling the now headless vamp with his back to you. He turned to look at you, and that had been the first of many times that you’d wanted to smack Benny’s smug smile right off his face.

****

You were sitting on the end of a bed in the motel. Normally you would just call it yours, but it didn’t feel like your bed. You just felt like you were intruding on someone else’s house. You rubbed your sweaty palms against your jeans and looked around the room with a hard swallow. 

“You okay?” Dean asked softly. He was sitting at the desk chair in front of you, forearms braced against his knees as he watched you. 

You shook your head. “It feels … weird here. Like I don’t belong.”

Dean nodded and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Yeah. Me too.” He reached out and patted the side of your knee in reassurance. Like he would a friend that he wasn’t entirely   
comfortable touching.

You gave him a disbelieving smile. “What the hell was that?”

He sighed and straightened in his chair. “Sorry. I just … Sam’s in the bathroom and …”

“He’s gonna find out eventually, Dean.”

“I know.” He looked down at his hands. 

You pursed your lips and slid to your knees in front of him, shuffling forward until you were between his thighs. You rubbed your hands up and down them, the rough fabric of his jeans felt comforting beneath your hands. “He’s gonna be fine with it, Dean.”

He looked at you. “How do you know that?”

“Because he was gonna be fine with it before Purgatory. You made a move on me before we killed Dick. You didn’t have any qualms about it then. So what’s the real problem?”  
He didn’t answer you for a moment, but you gave him the time he needed because you knew that he was trying to gather his thoughts together. “It just … it feels like I’ve betrayed him, you know? Like I swooped in and stole his girlfriend. Before it didn’t matter, because we both wanted you and it felt like friendly competition. Like no one would get hurt. But in Purgatory … I fell in love with you, Y/N. I fell hard. And suddenly I didn’t like the thought of you being with anyone else, even if it was my brother. And I found myself looking at you the way Sam did after the two of you were … together. I realised that he’d probably felt the same way I did then. And that despite everything we’d discussed, he probably   
didn’t like the thought of you being with anyone but him either.”

You nodded to show him that you understood. That he wasn’t being crazy. You cupped his jaw in your hand and ran a thumb across the stubble on his cheek. You gave him a soft smile and said, “So no more polyandry, keeping it in the family jokes?”

He snorted and shook his head at you in disbelief before pressing his forehead against yours. “Leave it to you to make a joke after I tell you I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you too.”

“You okay?” You jumped at Sam’s voice and sat back on your heels as you turned your head to look at him. Dean’s thighs tensed under your hands so you slid them to your lap nonchalantly and studied Sam’s face to figure out if he’d heard anything the two of you had talked about. He didn’t seem to have, though he did look concerned, but you figured with the way Dean was tensing up and looking anywhere but at Sam that he was just worried for his brother. Probably thought that you were trying to ease his nerves.   
Dean realised that Sam was talking to him and nodded with a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, hey, what do you say we blow this joint, hit the road?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, Kevin's not getting any more found.”

Sam snorted. “The kid survived a year without us. He'll be okay for another twelve hours. Besides, when's the last time you slept?” You scoffed and went back to sitting rigidly on the end of the bed. “What?”

“Is that how you justify it, Sam?” you asked him. “Taking a year off? What, you just figured people would be okay?”

Sam straightened and frowned at you. “People were okay, Y/N. You're okay.”

“Wow.” You shook your head, disbelieving of his complete nonchalance. 

“Look, I did what me and my brother promised we'd do. I moved on. I lived my life.”

“Yeah, no, I'm getting that. Except we didn’t make that promise, Sam. But I guess that didn’t really matter to you, did it?”

He sighed and sat down on the corner of the bed that was next to the one you were on. “No, we didn’t. But I thought you were dead. I thought that wherever you’d ended up, Dean was there with you. You weren’t alone. Not like I was.”

“No. I was just running for my life day and night. And what about the people here who were fighting for their lives, huh? What about them?”

“Look, it wasn't like I was... just oblivious. I mean, I read the paper every day. I saw the weird stories…the kind of stuff we used to chase.”

Your teeth clenched and you didn’t know what made you angrier. That he did nothing to save you, or that he did nothing to save the people that he knew he could save. It just wasn’t the Sam you knew. Your Sammy – your Rex – would have never just sat around while people died. “So, who was the girl?” Because only falling for someone that didn’t hunt would make Sam give it all up. It ruined you to know that he hadn’t wasted time shacking up with someone else the moment you were gone. Of course you’d expected that he would move on eventually. But you’d only been gone a year, and he hadn’t hunted at all in that time, so you could only jump to the conclusion that he’d at least been with her for six months or more. And yes, you’d gotten with Dean in the same time frame. But it was Dean, and a relationship had already begun to establish between the three of you before Purgatory. Dean was never off limits. Dean wasn’t some stranger you’d bumped into and decided to sleep with. 

Sam’s faced dropped when you mentioned there being a girl. You could see the guilt in his eyes as he swallowed what must have been a lump in his throat. To his credit he didn’t try to deny it. “The girl had nothing to do with it.”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean said. And you suddenly found it very difficult to breath.

****

You’d been gone for an hour. After Sam’s admission you’d stormed out of the room, almost taking the door off it’s hinges, and you hadn’t been back to the motel since. Dean didn’t blame you. Sitting on the floor in front of where you’d sat, with his brother still in his same position just behind and to the right of him, Dean found it difficult himself not to knock a few teeth out of Sam’s mouth. This entire year he’d felt so guilty being with you. Every time he touched you, kissed you, held you. Every time you’d smiled at him. Every time you’d moaned his name in his ear and dragged your nails down his back in ecstasy the guilt ate away at him. All he could think about was how torn up Sam would have been losing you. How much he would have mourned you. Dean knew Sam would have mourned him too, but they’d both died enough times that it was a wound that never really closed. A pain that never really went away. But you? You were supposed to have been the love of Sam’s life. The one thing that gave Sam the life he wanted without having to sacrifice hunting or his brother. And this entire time he’d been rolling around with another girl. 

Neither of them had talked after you left. Dean had wanted so badly to go after you, but he’d known that you needed space, so he’d held himself back and settled for leaning back against your bed where he could still feel the warmth from where you’d sat. 

Eventually Sam broke the silence, and just hearing his voice made Dean clench his fist together. “Listen, I know this is gonna sound crazy to you. I don't even necessarily need you to understand. But...you need to know. I didn't just drop out, Dean. I found something. Something that I’d only ever had with Y/N. But … she was gone, and I didn’t think I’d ever   
get it back. But I did.”

Dean shook his head but still refused to turn and look at his brother. The betrayal that he knew you must’ve felt burned through his heart. “Yeah, what was her name?” he growled.  
Silence. Then, “Amelia.”

“How could you do that to her, Sam? How could you just forget about Y/N like that? I thought you were in love with her. I mean, that’s what it seemed like.”

“I was. I still am, Dean. I’m never not gonna love Y/N. She gave me something that I’d only ever dreamed of having. She gave me the life that I wanted. She gave both of us that.   
And when she was gone … it destroyed me.”

Dean finally turned to glare daggers at his brother. “Oh yeah, I’m sure you were real torn up when Amelia dropped panties for you.”

“Stop. Of course losing Y/N ruined me. I didn’t go to Amelia because I wanted to get laid or – or move on. I didn’t love Amelia. I stayed with her because I was trying to reconnect with Y/N.” Dean scoffed but Sam persevered. “I was trying to get back the care and domestic bliss that I lost when I lost Y/N. I thought that if I did I could … I don’t know … put myself back together? Mourn her without completely falling apart. Amelia was a segue into moving on from the life that I lost when I lost Y/N.”

For a moment, Dean didn’t say anything. He tried to put himself in Sam’s shoes, tried to imagine what he would do if he ever lost you the way Sam did. And he realised that he’d drown himself in booze and women just to try and forget the pain that you’d leave behind. Sam was no different. “Did it work?” Dean asked, because he needed to know what to do when the situation arises. And it would. He was a hunter in love with another hunter. One of you was going to lose the other and remain behind to face the hole that was left.

“I thought it did,” Sam said gently. “For a while I thought that it was working. And then I had to leave, and I fell right back into the … abyss, that Y/N had left. Then I saw her at Rufus’s cabin and … and I realised that it had never worked in the first place. I’d never gotten back what I’d lost. I’d never eased the pain. I’d just squashed it. Shut it up in the back of my mind and distracted myself with domestic duties. I’d been on auto pilot the entire time. And I think the only reason the disconnect hadn’t bothered Amelia was because she’d felt the same way. Neither of us loved each other, Dean. We just wanted it so bad that we forced ourselves to believe the people we really loved never existed at all.”

Dean had turned completely to watch his brother now, and he found that all the anger he’d felt had gone away. He could see the pain that Sam still felt. Even though you were back he could still see that the memory of your absence ruined Sam. “She needs to know, Sam. All of it. Or she’ll never forgive you. You’ll never get her back.” And even though the thought of you leaving him to go back to his brother ruined him too, Dean would let that happen if that’s what the two of you needed, because he couldn’t imagine ever going through what Sam must have gone through, and he wanted to help his brother any way he could. That’s what he always did. He would always continue to do it. 

Sam looked at Dean. “I know that. I also know that the two of you are together now.” At Dean’s shock Sam gave his brother a look that said it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he knew. “I’m not an idiot, Dean. You had feelings for Y/N before Purgatory. It only makes sense that the two of you would get closer after being in there together.”

Dean nodded. “And you’re, uh, you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, I mean, we wanted to share her before didn’t we? Purgatory didn’t change that.” 

Dean scratched his shoulder, his eyes dropping to the floor for a moment before he looked back at his brother. “I thought that you might’ve backed out of that.”

Sam shook his head. “I mean, I wanted to. Sometimes. Especially after we spent the night together. I would imagine her being with you and I just … I’d get so mad. But then I’d watch the two of you together. The way she smiled at you. And when you’d kiss her just a little too close to the mouth. Or even when you’d just touch each other like it was just the natural thing to do. It – it made me happy. And I knew that it shouldn’t have … but it did. It made me happy because it made you happy and it made her happy. The two people that I loved most in the world loved each other. It just … made sense. And I don’t think that anyone but us could ever understand that. And I don’t want them too. What we have is – is unique and special. Y/N is special. And I don’t want either of us to have to give her up.”

****

You were back in the forest. In Purgatory. Not literally of course, but the way your mind was acting up you may as well have been. And it was better to reminisce about that place than think about Sam. You were still stuck on the memory of when you first met Benny. He stood up to face you after decapitating the vamp, his fangs flexed and retracted. That smug grin was still on his face and your hand tightened around your weapon. You felt giddy just thinking about ending him, but something made you hesitate. Made you listen.

“What, no thanks for saving your hide?” Benny said.

“Sure. I won't shove this up your ass,” you said with a matching smirk as you held up your weapon. No, you’d just shove it through his neck. You let your eyes quickly flick around to see if you could spot Dean, but he still hadn’t manage to find you. This wasn’t the first time the two of you had separated, but you’d both always managed to find your way back to one another. 

“Awful strange way to punch your meal ticket, friend. I got something you need.”

“Aw, honey, you gonna tell me all about how I need a big, strong man like you around?” You began circling each other, and stopped only once you’d both ended up in the same places that you’d started in. You had to admit, you’d been trying to find a weak point to pounce at, but Benny was too careful. He would’ve never let you get the drop on him like that. 

He smiled. “I could say that. It wouldn’t be true. Something tells me a sweet little lady like you isn’t all that sweet to someone that tries messing with you.” He moved to the side and turned slightly so you could keep you in his line of sight and still look at Dean who’d just tried sneaking up behind him. “Or your friend.”

Dean had found his own weapon that looked almost identical to yours, and the extra blood on his temple had you guessing that he’d taken so long because he’d run into trouble. Determination and suspicion hardened his face as he looked at Benny. But all the vamp did was smile right back at him. 

“What do you got for us, huh?” Dean asked.

“A way out,” Benny said.

You laughed and Benny looked back at you. “Even a dental apocalypse like you knows there's no such thing.”

Benny’s smile widened. “There is if you're human. God has made it so. At least, that's the rumor.”

The smile fell from your face. “Bull,” Dean said.

Benny shrugged. “Suit yourself. Maybe you've gone native. Maybe you like being man meat for every Tom, Dick, and Harry.”

“Prove it,” you said. 

“Nah.” He looked at you. “You're either in or you're out.”

“So you just want to guide us out of Purgatory out of the goodness of your undead heart?”

“More or less.”

You cocked a brow and looked at Dean. You both made eye contact but neither of you had to say anything to know what the other was thinking. You looked back at Benny. “What's   
in it for you?”

“I'm hopping a ride.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean.” 

Benny wasn’t smiling as much now, you thought that maybe he was getting bored, maybe even a little antsy. You didn’t blame him. You hadn’t been there long and you already wanted to keep hunting monsters down. You could only imagine how long Benny had been there, and you didn’t think he liked fighting the blood lust any more than you did.  
“It's a human portal, darling. Only humans can pass through. I show you the door, you hop my soul to the other side,” Benny said.

You smiled. “So you're looking for a soul train.” You heard Dean snort.

Benny’s smile came back as well. “Sure. If that's what you're into.”

“And how do we know this isn't a set-up?” Dean said. “How do we know we ain't gonna end up like your friend over there?” He gestured to the vamp that Benny had taken out. And   
you were taken aback at Dean’s ability to put two and two together. You’d always known that he was a smart man, but he acted so stupid most of the time that it tended to shock people when he showed how perceptive he could be. It even shocked you. 

“He was my friend,” Benny said. He looked back at you. “Now you are. First rule of Purgatory, kid. You can't trust nobody.”

“You just asked me to trust you,” you growled.

“You see? You're getting it now.”

For a moment you just watched him and contemplated his offer. There was something about Purgatory that brought you peace, but you knew you couldn’t stay here forever. And sure, Benny could’ve turned out to be a dead end. A trap, even. But if that was the case then you could kill him and just go back to what you’d been doing. Neither you or Dean had anything to lose. 

“Fine,” you finally said, and you didn’t have to look at Dean to know that he agreed with you. “But, first we find the angel.” You took a few steps towards Benny, and all of a sudden all his attention was on you. You thought that it was a rooky move considering Dean was at his back now, but then you realised that Benny saw you as the bigger threat. He saw you as the leader. He truly believed that Dean wouldn’t do anything to him unless you told him too. You wished you could see the look on Dean’s face if he ever figured it out.   
“Three's a crowd, chief,” Benny said as he looked around the forest and acted as though it was a deal breaker. 

You cocked a brow as you watched him. “Well, hey. Either you're in or you're out.” You rested your weapon on your shoulder and Benny tilted his head as he considered you. Then his smile stretched to a grin and you thought that maybe he respected you now. Liked you, even. 

“Y/N?” You sucked in a breath and were suddenly back in the motel room. Your reflection stared back at you and Sam said your name again. You turned and looked at him. “You okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah. What do you want?” He flinched at the tone in your voice. You hadn’t meant to bark at him, but the minute you saw him all you could think about was him dropping you for another woman the minute you’d left. 

“Okay. I probably deserve that.” You kept quiet. “Look, I’m gonna go talk to Kevin’s girlfriend. I want you to come.

You shook your head. “I didn’t sleep last night. I’m tired. Dean can go with you.”

“You can sleep in the car.”

“No.” You turned back to the mirror in dismissal. Sam didn’t like to push things, so you’d hoped that he would leave you alone at that, but he didn’t. He came up behind you and suddenly you were staring at his reflection. 

“Please, Y/N.” His eyes pleaded with you and your heart begged you to turn around and wrap yourself up in his arms. But your mind knew better so you stayed exactly where you were. He lifted his hands and gripped your shoulders tightly, and you could practically feel him restraining himself. His very bones vibrated with his need to just squeeze you to him and never let you go. By the desperate look on his face you thought he might brake if you shook him off you so you let him touch you. That was your first mistake. He took your lack of action as acceptance and something in the back of your mind told you that you knew he would. 

He bent and you closed your eyes as he pressed his forehead against the back of your head. “You were gone.” The words tore out of his throat and you felt his fingers tense and shake against your shoulders. “You were gone and I tried to find you in a woman I didn’t know. I couldn’t – I couldn’t do it so I left. And then I did find you again … and I … God. Please, Y/N.” His face was buried in your hair, his lips against your ear and you felt a tear slip through your closed lids. “I need you.” 

Against your better judgment you let your eyes crack open and started slowly turning your head towards him. He realised what you were doing and coaxed you to turn your whole body around. You did. That was your second mistake. You were pressed back against the sink in an instant. Sam’s body was pressed against yours and he had a bruising grip on your waist. He pressed his forehead against yours and brought his large hands up to engulf your face between them. His lip snarled up and you could feel the muscles in his chest spasm under your hands. 

“Please,” he groaned. And when his nose bumped against yours you realised he wasn’t asking for you to go with him anymore. He was asking for you. 

Out of instinct you tilted your head and parted your lips for him but drew in a breath and stopped him a second before he made contact. “No.” And you were proud that despite the shaking in your hands and the tears still rolling silently down your cheeks, you’d managed to make the word sound firm. 

He sucked in a breath and for a moment pressed his forehead more firmly against yours and turned his head slightly as though he were fighting to not go against what you’d just said. Eventually the part of him that made Sam good won out and he growled in frustration as he let his hands fall to the counter on either side of you and his head drop to your shoulder. His shoulders were shaking and your tears fell harder. Your lip quivered as you reached up and stroked a hand against the back of his neck. “I can’t.” Your voice broke under the pressure of the sobs you were holding back. You almost apologised. Almost gave in to the utter destruction of your heart. But you’d done nothing wrong, and that thought alone kept you from taking him back. 

His arms came around your waist and squeezed you tightly. His face pressed into your neck and you could feel his tears against your skin. “I love you.”

Your lip quivered harder and your voice was barely above a broken whisper when you said, “I know.”

****

You were sitting at a small round table outside of a café watching as a woman walked her dog. Sam sat across from you with his laptop. He and Dean had gone to the local university to talk to Kevin’s girlfriend, Channing. Apparently that had turned up bupkis, with Channing admitting that she’d dropped Kevin the minute she found out he wasn’t going to Princeton, and hadn’t been in contact with him since. You suddenly felt very sorry for Kevin. After that Dean had decided to take a stroll around campus and see what else he could dig up whilst Sam tracked you down and decided sit to with you and brainstorm other places that Kevin could be. And by brainstorming you meant that you stayed stone cold silent while every now and then Sam would shoot you wounded puppy looks. 

“What was it like?” Sam suddenly asked. 

You looked at him. “What?” 

“You and Dean. You’re both shaky and on edge. What was it like in there?”

You sighed and scratched your forehead. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

You looked at him and he looked right back with such determination that it almost made you smile. You’d told him no in the motel, but he was still trying to do everything he could to help you and make sure that you were okay. Because that was just what Sam did. 

So you gave him the benefit of the doubt and tried to explain the pure bliss that you’d felt in Purgatory. “Alright. Okay – fine. It was bloody. Messy. Thirty one flavours of bottom-dwelling nasties. Hell, most days felt like the fight was never ending. But there was something about being there.” A line formed between Sam’s brows, and you knew that he wasn’t understanding at all what you were trying to say. So you said, “It was pure.” And you left it at that. 

Sam straightened and thought for a minute. But before he could even begin to reply a waitress came sidling over and, with a retail smile, put down a plate of fries and a burger in front of Sam. He smiled at her and then pushed the plate towards you with a look of disgust once she left. You could feel yourself salivating at the smell. 

“Oh, sweet Jesus. They’re for me?” you said in awe. Sam nodded. You didn’t want to give him a chance to change his mind so you pulled the plate closer to your body and immediately picked up the burger.

Sam smiled and looked back down at his laptop. “So, I went through campus security archives around the time Kevin should have been here.” Sam turned the computer towards you to show you some footage of Kevin, but you were far too busy moaning around a mouthful of burger to pay any attention. Sam sighed. “It's a burger, Y/N.”

You glared at him. “It's a treasure.” Sam rolled his eyes and you finished swallowing what was in your mouth before taking a closer look at the footage. “All right, so, what, Kevin comes all the way to campus and doesn't see his girlfriend?”

Sam shrugged and turned the laptop back around to face him. “I don't know... but before I came here, I went to the computer lab and found the computer he was on.”

“And?” You took another bite of the burger and closed your eyes for a moment in sweet bliss. 

“And I found the website he was visiting, found his account username, hacked in to the website, found when else this username logged in, and then I reverse-tracked the IP address back to the original user, Kevin, who has apparently been using the same wireless router for the past two months.”

You nodded along with him, all while shoving handfuls of chips into your mouth and groaning in the back of your throat. The guy at the table next to you kept giving you odd looks but you ignored him. And Sam ignored your semi-sexual moment with the food. “Beautiful,” you said when Sam finished explaining what he’d done. “So where is he?”

“I think he's in Iowa – at a coffee shop.”

“I’ll call Dean. But first,” you picked up your half-eaten burger and waved it in front of Sam. “I’m gonna need another one of these.” Sam sighed and pulled his wallet from his pocket. 

****

“A church? You sure this is right?” Dean asked, his arm slung over your shoulders as the two of you and Sam walked up to an abandoned church in Fairfield, Iowa. 

“Yeah, Dean. Barista at the coffee shop said he's seen Kevin ducking in here for the past few months,” you said.

The three of you walk up the steps to the front porch and Dean takes his arm off you to bang on the door. “Kevin. It's Sam and Dean Winchester. Open up.” He pressed his ear to the door and listened for a second before looking at his brother and shaking his head. Sam moved forward and began picking the lock. It was open in seconds and, not for the first time, you wished that you had the same skills. 

You walked in as soon as the doors opened with Dean and Sam coming up behind. You made it through the entrance room but just as soon as you were about to enter the main hall Kevin leaped out, pointed a gun at you and squirted borax at your face. You put your arm up to block the spray, but when yelling ‘stop’ didn’t work, you reached out and yanked the gun from his grip and glared at him. 

“We’re not Leviathans,” you growled.

Kevin swallowed and nodded before looking over your shoulder at Sam and Dean who’d also gotten soaked in borax. “What the hell happened to you guys?”

“Cliff Notes?” Dean said. “Y/N and I went to Purgatory. Sam hit a dog.”

You turned and frowned at Sam. “Really?” He shrugged and nodded his head. 

“You want some towels?” Kevin said. He walked further into the room and the three of you followed him, wiping your faces off onto your sleeves. 

“Who taught you all this?” Sam asked, gesturing to the red symbols that had been painted all over the floor.

Kevin lifted his hands and let them fall back to his sides in a half shrug. “I guess... God.”

“God taught you how to trap demons?” you said.

“Technically, yeah.” He grabbed some hand towels from a nearby seat and tossed them to you. You gave one to Sam and Dean before wiping yourself down with your own. 

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Sam said, taking a few steps towards Kevin. “Crowley kidnapped you. I saw that. But then you left a message saying you escaped. How?”

Kevin sighed. “Well ... first, he took me to a warehouse. There was a tablet there, like the last one.”

“Wait,” Dean interrupted, “there's another tablet? So another Word of God.” Kevin nodded. “How many Words of God are there?”

Kevin gave him a disbelieving look. “I just became a Prophet, like, a year ago.”

“Well, did this tablet have a name?” you asked.

“Yeah.’Demons.’”

“What about demons?”

“As far as I could tell... everything.”

You nodded. “Okay, so then what?”

“Well, Crowley wanted me to do a spell that was on the tablet. A spell that would open Hell Gates. There’s one in Wisconsin. So, I did what he asked. I made a spell.”

Dean took an angry step forward and growled. “You showed the King of Hell how to open a Hell Gate? So that all the demons in Hell could come out all at the same time?”

Kevin gave him an incredulous frown. “What? No.” The he gave you all a bright smile. “I told Crowley I was opening a Hell Gate, but I was reading from another chapter – how to destroy demons.”

You gave him a matching smile, grabbed his head between your hands and planted a kiss on his forehead. “You brilliant, advanced placement man, you.” 

Dean had a proud smile on his face and Sam looked pretty impressed with the kid himself, but he lifted a finger and said, “Wait. Kevin? Where's the tablet now?”

“Safe,” Kevin said as he folded his arms and gave Sam a steady look. 

“Safe where?”

You put a hand on his chest to stop him and said, “Hey. As long as it's safe, okay?” You turned back to Kevin. “Were you able to read anything else off the tablet before you stashed it?”

Kevin smiled again and you had the sudden urge to squeeze his adorable little cheeks. “Only the stuff about closing the gates of Hell. Forever.”

Your jaw dropped and Dean said, “Come again?”

“Banish all demons off the face of the Earth, lock them away forever. That could be important, right?”

Sam and Dean shared a look and you took a step closer to Kevin. “Closing the gates of Hell forever? Yeah – yeah, that could be important.”

****

It was dark when the church started to shake like the earth beneath it was collapsing. You all stood and moved to the middle of the room, looking around to spot if any demons slipped through the cracks, and braced yourselves. The floorboards near the entrance room begin breaking, destroying the Devil’s trap that had been painted there.

“We got company,” Dean said. 

You dove straight for your duffel bag and pulled out the demon knife, handing it to Sam, then you pulled out the weapon you’d stolen from that vamp in Purgatory. You’d told yourself plenty of times that you’d only kept it because it was better to have more weapons than you needed than have none at all. But deep down you knew that wasn’t true.

“What the hell is that?” Sam asked as he came to you and inspected the blade. 

You looked at him and said. “It's Purgatory.”

The entrance doors flew open and two demons entered the church. 

“Dean Winchester. Back from Purgatory,” one of the demons said. 

Dean smiled. “Spanky the demon.” Sam moved to stand in front of Kevin and you and Dean stood in front of the two of them. “Yeah, I heard about you. You’re the one who uses too much teeth, right?”

The demon lifted his lip in a snarl before looking at you. “And Y/N. The boss is sure glad you’re back, sweetheart. He’s been trying to get you out of that hell hole for a while now. When he heard that you got out yourself … well,” the demon smiled, “he practically jumped for joy.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet of him,” you said as your grip tightened around your weapon.

“Don’t worry. We have orders not to kill you.”

“Too bad I don’t.” You rushed him and Dean took the other one. You got slammed into the wall but recovered immediately and, with a little help from Kevin’s squirt bottle of borax, managed to get him to the ground and severe his head. Sam slid the demon knife to you and you sent it straight through the demons heart to make sure he was dead. You heard struggling across the room and saw Dean trying to break out of a headlock. You tossed the knife to Dean next and the demon got the same treatment as his friend. He gasped and struggled to his feet once the demons arms fell away. 

“Hello, boys.” You all spun at the sound of Crowley’s rough accent. He was standing in the entrance doorway with Channing by his side. It came as no surprise to you that she was possessed. Crowley looked at you. “Kitten. You look … well, as ravishing as ever. Where’s your angel?”

“Ask your mother,” you growled. A part of you would always belong to Crowley. You owed him everything after the mercy he showed you in selflessly killing your father. An act that Cas never could do. But Crowley was still the King of Hell. You were still both on opposite sides. As much as you wanted to have a normal friendship with Crowley, you couldn’t help but lash out at him for the awful things that he was doing. 

Crowley smiled at your quip. And it was one of those smiles that he only gave you. Behind it, he looked almost … relieved. And you realised that the King of Hell had actually missed you. You refused to let yourself dwell on it. He was supposed to be your enemy. “There's that grade-school zip. Missed it. I really did.” With a last lingering look he turned his attention to the brothers who, whilst Crowley was distracted by you, managed to move up behind you. “Dean. It looks like Purgatory didn’t do you any favours. Moose. Still with the pork chops. I admire that.”

“Let Channing go,” Kevin growled.

“That's not Channing, Kevin,” Dean said. “Not anymore.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “What an awful thing to say to the boy. Of course it's Channing.” He looked at Kevin. “Kev. Last time we danced, you stole my tablet and killed my men. Tell you what. Come with me now, bygones. And I'll let the girl go back to... What's-the-Point U.”

“He’s lying,” Dean growled. “You won't get Channing back. She's probably dead already.”

Crowley sighed. “Will you please stop saying that?” He looked at the demon in Channing’s body and said, “Let the girl speak.” Then he snapped his fingers and Channing jerked slightly, her eyes going back to their normal colour. 

She looked around with a dazed look before her eyes landed on Kevin. She smiled, and you knew that the demon had been possessing her and talking when Dean and Sam had gone to see her on campus. “Kevin?”

Kevin sighed in relief and had to refrain from taking a step forwards. “Channing.”

“What's going on?” Channing said.

“There's a demon in you,” Kevin rushed to explain, “and you're going to your safety school.” You and Dean frowned at his choice of important information. But apparently it was important to Channing if her exclaimed shout was anything to go by. “But it's gonna be okay.”

Crowley closed his eyes in disgust. “I just – I can't.” He clicked his fingers and again Channing jerked before her eyes went back to solid black and the demon took control of her body again. 

“Okay. I'll do it,” Kevin said suddenly.

“Kevin,” you warned.

He ignored you. “Myself for the girl. But this ends. All right? No fighting, no nothing. It ends.

“Can't let you do that, Kevin,” Sam said.

“Or what?” Kevin looked at Dean. “You'll kill me?” Dean seemed a little shocked at the personal attack, but said nothing of it when Kevin turned back to Crowley. “I’'ll grab my stuff.” Then he turned and left for the back room.

Crowley looked at you. “I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to come with me.”

“No chance in hell,” Dean growled as he stormed forward and held his knife at the ready. 

“Wait,” you shouted as you stepped in front of him and put your back to his chest, holding your hands up to ward off Crowley. But Crowley did nothing. At first you thought that he wasn’t going to retaliate at all, but then you heard a grunt and sizzle. You looked down to find that the knife in Dean’s had heated up to the point where he’d had to drop it to the floor before getting serious burns. 

“That’s what I thought,” Crowley said. “Well, the invite’s always there, Kitten. I won’t snatch you away. You’ll have to come of your own accord.”

“This ain't over by a long shot, Crowley,” Dean growled behind you, and you pressed your back tighter against his chest.

Crowley rolled his eyes and let out a bored sigh. “Really, Dean, who writes your stuff? A marshmallow?” A second later he called out, “Come on, Kevin. Chop, chop.” He paused and waited for an answer but none came. “Kevin?” He muttered under his breath and began heading towards the back room with Channing by his side, calling out Kevin’s name. 

When they disappeared into the room you turned to look at Dean, making sure his hand was okay. He stroked a hand over the back of your head in reassurance before bending to   
pick up his knife. Not a second later there was a crash and screams from the back room, then Kevin yelled for the three of you to run. Stopping only to gather the already packed duffel bags, the three of you legged it out of the church and dove into the Impala. Kevin came flying around the back of the church and scrambled into the back seat next to you. The dirt and rocks flicked up under the Impala when the wheels spun before it jerked forward and Dean pulled out of the driveway. As the car roared past the front of the church you and Kevin looked to the front door where Crowley and Channing now stood, looking as though they’d just had a bucket of water poured onto them. As the two of you watched, the demon left Channing’s body. Kevin had his hands pressed against the window and he cried out as Crowley waited for Channing to realise what was going on before snapping her neck with a flick of his wrist.

****

It was seven hours before Dean finally pulled into a gas station in the middle of the day. Your phone rang just as the engine shut off and Sam turned to look at you expectantly. 

“Hey, darling.” 

Benny’s voice forced a lump into your throat, but you swallowed past it and forced yourself to say, “Wrong number.” Then you hung up. 

“Anybody want anything?” Dean asked. You shook your head and Sam said that he was good. Dean turned and looked at Kevin when he didn’t say anything. “Kevin? How you holding up?

“Awesome. The king of Hell just snapped my girlfriend's neck. How about you?” He was breathing heavily and you hadn’t the slightest clue how to comfort him.   
Sam and Dean shared a look before Dean turned back with a hard look on his face and said, “All right, listen to me. I'm sorry about your girlfriend, okay? I am. But the sooner you get this, the better. You're in it now, whether you like it or not. That means you do what you got to do.”

Sam didn’t look as though he approved of what Dean was saying, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did you. Dragging Kevin back into this wasn’t what you wanted, but you knew that Dean was right. Until the Hell Gates were shut, demons would hunt him down for the rest of his life. The problem for you was could you lock Crowley away forever?   
You swallowed the lump that had forced it’s way back into your throat at that thought before mumbling that you had to go to the bathroom and climbing out of the car. You headed towards the women’s restroom just around the side of the building but stopped as soon as you were out of eyesight. You pulled your phone from your pocket and called Benny back. 

“There’s my girl,” he answered.

“How’d you get a phone?” you asked. 

You could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Would you believe they sell these things in convenience stores now? A lot's changed in 50 years.”

The corners of your lips curled up as you looked around to make sure neither the brothers or Kevin had followed. “Must be a hell of a lot to take in.”

“Mostly it's the choices, you know? So many choices.”

“I know. Listen, Benny, not to beat a dead horse. What we did down there is what we had to do. Now, I don't regret it for a second. But... you know maybe until we both adjust, it's best we don't talk for a while.”

“There it is,” he sighed.

You rushed to reassure him. “One day at a time, just like we talked about, right?”

He sighed again. But this time it was reminiscent. “I think you had it right, sweetheart.”

“What?”

“Purgatory was pure.” He paused. “I'm kind of wishin' I had appreciated it more. You know? Like you.”

You nodded. Remembered that he couldn’t see it. “Listen, you got an emergency, you call me, you understand?”

“I hear you. You keep your nose clean, too, darling.”

You hung up, and immediately knew that your offer of help if he ever got into trouble was going to come back and bite you on the ass.


	13. Nightmare Up For Auction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Kevin reveals where he hid the tablet, he insists on going back for his mother. Getting Mrs Tran was the easy part. Getting the tablet was a lot harder than it should have been. Due to the actions of a petty criminal, the tablet has landed in the hands of a God. Plutus. He’s more than willing to give it back, as long as you’re willing to pay the price. In this part, you and Dean battle PTSD symptoms while fighting to hold on to each other. Guilt begins eating away at you as you find yourself torn between the brothers and Crowley; your feelings for Sam; and the emotional rollercoaster that your psychological health is sending you on.

You didn’t think you could love a burger as much as you did the one you were eating. Of course, you’d thought that about every burger you’d eaten since you got out of Purgatory, but you could swear that they were getting better with every bite. 

You were sitting outside a modest diner between Sam and Dean. Kevin sat across from the three of you. Dean was huddled over his burger, much like you were, and Sam was leaning back in his chair with his arm stretched out over the back of yours. His knee kept tentatively brushing against yours. Silently asking permission to touch you, stroke you, go back to being as affectionate as he had been before Purgatory. You gave no response. Positive or negative. Of course, you wanted to go back to the way things were before, but   
you were still so furious over what he’d done. 

You pushed the thought out of your mind and focused on what you were going to do once you finished the burger you had in hand. Before you’d even finished the last bite, you reached across the table and snatched Kevin’s plate from him. 

“Hey!” He reached across the table and tried to snatch it back but you batted his hand away with a snarl. 

“Back off, nerd.”

Kevin slumped back in his chair with a pout. “Purgatory made you mean.”

Sam snorted. “Just around food. Hey!” He tried to reach for the drink you’d just swiped from him. A glare had him reeling back before he lost a finger. He rubbed your back out of habit, drawing it away almost immediately when he remembered he’d lost the privilege. “Slow down, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“I’m hungry,” you mumbled through a mouthful of chips. 

“You’ve already had five burgers today. It’s not even 12.”

You took a large bite out of Kevin’s burger and ignored Sam. You could practically feel him rolling his eyes at you. Dean, on the other hand, had been too busy guarding his own growing pile of plates to care what was going on. Until Kevin asked to go see his mother that is. 

“Are you kidding me?” Dean said, his mouth filled with meat and bread. “You’re kidding me.”

Kevin shook his head. “What? Is it too much to ask if we can swing by and check on my mom?”

“Swing by?” Dean scoffed. “It's a day's drive in the opposite direction. You know that, right?”

“Yes. I understand we're in a hurry.”

“Okay, well, then, what's the problem?”

Kevin suddenly leaned forward, an angry snarl marring his features. It was so shocking to see that it stopped you eating. “Channing's broken neck is my problem!” He looked around before lowering his voice back down. “As in I'd rather not see my mom twisted into a corkscrew.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Kid’s got a point, Dean,” you said.

He barely glanced at you as he said, “Stay out of this.” Sam smiled at the faux shocked look you gave him. “Kevin, your mom is fine.”

A waitress strolled over with the diner’s signature smile and another plate of food. “Oh, sweet Jesus, yes,” you moaned. You gave her a meaningful look and said, “I love you.” She smiled and left with a wink. 

“I suppose I’ll be paying the big tip,” Sam said as Dean and Kevin continued to bicker. 

“It’s the least you can do,” you replied without looking at him. Sam pressed his lips together but said nothing. 

He hadn’t built up the courage yet to tell you what he’d told Dean back in the motel that night. In all honesty, he didn’t think you would believe him. You’d been on a self-deprecating binge lately. Your self-confidence had dwindled, along with your energy. Sam had been moping around feeling guilty, believing he was the reason. But Dean insisted that you were like that the minute you got back from Purgatory. He’d even noticed something was up before Purgatory, but you never caved and told him.

“Dean, my mom's all alone,” Kevin said. You looked up at him. “She's surrounded by demons. Can you really not understand why I want to make sure she's okay?”

Dean looked at you and you shrugged. “We can take ‘em,” you said.

“Son of a bitch.” He slammed his burger down on the table and threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. Let’s go.”

He, Sam and Kevin suddenly got up from the table. You stood up with them and scrambled to grab as many half-eaten burgers and bowls of chips as you could to eat in the car. Dean called your name but when you didn’t follow them straight away he wrapped an arm around your waist and picked you up off the ground to carry you towards the Impala. 

“No, Dean. The burgers,” you wailed. Sam gave everyone an apologetic smile and wave as they looked up at you. He even paid a waitress a hefty tip when you snatched a burger from her tray as she passed. But damn it, it tasted so good. 

****

You were in Neighbour, Michigan, parked across the street from a sweet little blue house that screamed suburban housewife. A brunette woman in sneakers and tights jogged past and you leaned out the window to watch her ass. 

“Hey,” Dean growled. You looked over and saw that he was watching you in the side mirror. “Eyes to the front.”

You scoffed. “Please. Don’t act like you don’t check out other women.”

He rolled his eyes. “’Course I do. But not in front of you. And my tongue stays in my mouth.”

You pushed your bottom lip out and flicked it with your bottom finger. “Aw, is my little cupcake feeling insecure.”

He glared at you and you realised that it had sounded meaner than you’d intended. Guilt settled in your stomach so you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, kissing the side of his neck. You pressed your lips to his ear and whispered, low enough that only he could hear, “Sorry. I was only teasing. I’ll keep a lid on it.”

He picked your hand up from his chest and pressed a kiss to your fingers. You were forgiven. 

Sam pulled the binoculars he was using to watch the house away from his face. ”Tiger mom, 9 o’clock,” he said.

“Where?” Kevin, who sat in the backseat with you, snatched the binoculars and pressed them to his face.

“Left window.”

Kevin smiled ruefully as he lowered the binoculars and watched the house. “She seems okay. Sad ... but okay.”

“Check out the mailman,” you said.

Kevin lifted the binoculars again and watched the man in blue that was opening his mother’s letterbox. 

“Yeah, that's Carl. So what?” he said.

You gave him a sad look. “Carl’s filled your mum's mailbox three times since we've been sitting here.”

“See the gardener?” Dean said. “Think that plant needs any more water?” You looked towards where he nodded and saw that a river of water was running down onto the footpath from where another man was hosing down the bush outside the house.

****

You pulled the hose from the tap at the back of the blue house and waited in hiding for the demon gardener to investigate. He rounded the house in record time and you snuck up behind him.

“Hey, handsome.” He spun suddenly at the sound of your voice and you plunged Dean’s demon knife into his heart before he could register who you were. Once he was good and dead, you sent a boot into his stomach to send him flying down the stairs to the basement where no one would find him for a day or two. Dean and Sam caught and disposed of the mailman in much the same way. 

****

Mrs. Tran was ecstatic when she opened the door to find Kevin standing there. She was shocked and angry when Sam and Dean threw holy water on her, but then she was ecstatic again. All in all, it was a job well done you’d thought. Until you’d had to kill Eunice – Mrs. Tran’s friend. But, being possessed by a demon will do that to you. 

Mrs. Tran had actually taken it pretty well when you told her. Of course, she’d witnessed the entire thing, so it was a lot easier to convince her that her friend had been possessed.   
“Did you really have to kill her?” she said.

You gave her a sympathetic smile and perched on the arm of the chair that Dean sat in. His hand immediately rested on your hip and squeezed. “The demon would have warned Crowley where Kevin was if we didn't,” you said.

She turned to Kevin, who sat next to her on the couch. “And Crowley is the one who kidnapped you?”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “He needs me to translate his stupid tablet so he can take over the universe or something.” You stifled your smile. You’d always loved how … eloquently Kevin put things.

“Which is why we need to get it so that we can slam the gates of Hell forever with Crowley inside,” Dean said.

Sam, from his own chair, pointed to where Eunice's body lay in the kitchen. “So that things like that don't ever happen again.”

Mrs. Tran sighed and looked at her son. “Prophet of the Lord, huh? It does have a nice ring to it.” She nodded in acceptance and stood up. “I'll get packed.”

You stood as well and the three boys followed suit. Dean’s hand traced from your hip and up your spine until he could squeeze the back of your neck lightly. Dean looked at Kevin and said, “We're gonna need a safe house since Crowley's been to the cabin, so –“

“Safe house?” Mrs. Tran rounded on you and Dean. “I thought we were going to get the tablet.”

The look on your face had you coming to Dean’s defence. You stepped forward. She was shorter than you were, so it wasn’t hard to feel intimidating. “Uh, we are. You're taking a trip to a demon-free zone.”

She scoffed and took a step closer to you. You hadn’t expected that, and suddenly you felt a little less intimidating. “And risk letting Kevin fall into the hands of this Crowley again? I don't think so.”

Sam stepped forward to give you a hand. “Mrs. Tran, all due respect, Y/N's right. Crowley – he's not just a killer. He trades in torment. And if he can find a way to separate your soul from you, he'll take that soul to Hell and – and roast it till there's nothing left but black smoke.” Mrs. Tran nodded and you made a mental note to try to be more reasonable than brutish in the future. “Look, it's best if you let us handle this.”

“I understand.” She looked at you again with fiery eyes. “But it’s not my soul I’m worried about. It’s my son’s.” She folded her arms and gave you a ‘mum’ look. You’d never seen one of those looks before, but you had a feeling that was exactly what she was giving you. You felt yourself wilt under the glare and took a step back. Dean’s hands landed on your shoulders as you bumped into him.

“Kevin, you want to back us up here?” Dean said. “Came all the way down here to pull her out of the fire, and now she wants to jump right back in.”

Kevin gave his mum a mournful look, and you knew what his answer would be before he said it. He didn’t want to leave his mum so soon. He looked back at Dean. “Like I can tell her what to do?”

You looked at Mrs. Tran and saw that she was already watching you. Daring you to say no. You smiled. “Fine. But coming with us has conditions. Hex bags to stay off the bad guys’ radar, and,” – your grin widened – “you’re gonna have to get some ink.”

“Do what, now?” Kevin said in a panic. 

“You too shortstop. Keeps the demons out,” Sam said as he pulled his shirt open and flashed Kevin the tattoo on his chest. The same tattoo that you’d ran your tongue over a million times before. You shook the thought out of your mind and looked back at Mrs. Tran. She didn’t look as confident as before, so you pulled your shirt up to your belly button and pulled the top of your jeans down far enough to show her the tattoo that sat low on your abdomen. It was identical to Dean and Sam’s. And it had been licked and sucked by both brothers at one time or another. In fact, there was still a trace of a hickey covering it. 

Mrs. Tran’s eyes widened before they looked back up to Dean. Whatever she saw in his face made determination dominate her body again as she looked back at you. “Fine.”  
You raised your eyebrows and stepped forward. Flashing teeth as your grin turned crooked. “Really?”

Her resolve held and she shrugged. “What, like it’s my first tattoo?” She turned on her heel and left the room. 

You groaned. “Oh man. She is so –“ 

“Don’t say it,” Dean growled in your ear as his hands landed on your shoulder. You pressed your lips together. 

****

Kevin had squealed whilst he got his tattoo done, but Mrs. Tran had sat there without flinching once. Multiple times you’d had to press your lips together and stop yourself from voicing your thoughts on her. Sam had never minded if you’d admired or checked out other women (men were a different matter), but Dean was more possessive than he was. He preferred you to only look and make crude comments about him. 

Your efforts were always rewarded, however. This time, you got to lie in the front seat all the way to the train station in Laramie, Wyoming. Your head in Dean’s lap and your feet out the window while Sam sat – bitch-faced – in the backseat between Kevin and his mother.

It took twenty minutes for you, Dean and Sam to scope out the station separately before re-joining the Tran’s at the bench in front of the lockers.

“Place is clean, far as I can tell,” Sam said. He reached out to run his hand down the back of your head but stopped short when he remembered he wasn’t supposed to. 

It ruined you to see him keep doing that, to see him go to touch you and then wince when he realises he can’t. But you held strong despite it. He’d hurt you terribly. He hadn’t technically cheated on you (you were dead at the time) but it felt like he had. He’d moved on before your body was even cold – not that there had been a body. You kept expecting him to use your relationship with Dean as an excuse. You almost wanted him too. You felt guilty that you were angry at him for being with another woman whilst you’d been with Dean.

Dean, of course, kept telling you didn’t have a reason to feel guilty. You had to laugh. The two of you had had the exact conversation that first night you’d spent in a hotel with Sam. Only Dean had been feeling guilty and you were trying to tell him not too. You figured you were just looking for a reason to punish yourself. You were looking for a reason to forgive Sam. But you knew you didn’t deserve what he’d done, so you let the guilt fester.

Kevin handed over a small locker key to Dean. “Positive thoughts,” Dean said as he walked over to a nearby locker. He opened it up and hesitated before pulling out the diaper bag that sat inside.

You smiled at Kevin. “You hid the Word of God in a diaper bag?”

He swallowed with a look of horror. “No.”

You looked back at Dean and watched as he frantically searched through the bag. He found nothing. He looked up at you and you couldn’t help but smile at the situation in front of you. 

“Shut up,” he growled before tossing the bag back into the locker and slamming the door.

****

It turned out that the station had been having a lot of trouble keeping the lockers from being broken into. And management had only recently found out that it had been their security guard, Clem Smedley, doing it. Thankfully, he was at County waiting for arraignment, which is where you were now.

You sat across from him in an interview room. He was dressed up in his orange, jail cell jumpsuit, whilst you, Dean and Sam were decked out in your FBI suits.   
Sam sat adjacent to you and Clem while Dean paced the floor behind you. 

“Should’ve known they'd plant a LoJack in one of them bags,” Clem said. “Sharp guy, that Jerry. He'll be a fine replacement for me.”

“Right,” Sam said. “Well, in one of those lockers, there was a tablet. Do you know where it is?”

Clem scoffed. “Can I even acknowledge that without my lawyer here?”

You gave him a winning smile and leaned forward on the table. “Look, I'm sure we can work out a little, uh, something-something with the locals if you cooperate.”

Clem gave you a lewd smile in return, and you suddenly realised how he’d interpreted your offer. It wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for. “What kind of … something-something?” 

He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you sat back in your chair, swallowing down the bile that tried to rise up out of your throat.

Sam leaned forward and tried to catch his attention by saying that he’d get him a reduced sentence. 

Clem shook his head and looked back at you. “Naw. What I’m thinking is full immunity from all charges.” He nodded at you with another vomit-inducing smile. “And a night with you.” 

You actually pushed your chair back from the table. You didn’t even want to punch him in the face because that required touching him. Sam’s lip snarled but he kept it in check. Dean, on the other hand, ripped his tie from his neck, wrapped it around Clem’s throat, and used it as leverage to pull him from his chair and slam him against the wall. He pulled the demon knife on him next, and you thought the reaction was way over the top for what Clem had done. Then you saw Dean’s face, and you knew he was having a flashback.   
Sam rapped his hand on the table and called Dean’s name, but it did nothing to distract his older brother. You stood up and rushed over to wrap a hand around his upper arm. 

“Dean,” you said.

“You feel that?” he said to Clem as he pressed the blade to his throat. 

“Pawn shop, First and Main,” Clem stammered.

“Dean,” you said again, tugging on his upper arm.

Dean stepped back and pulled the tie from around Clem’s neck. He tucked the knife and tie into his back pocket before taking your hand in a bruising grip.

“Come on,” Sam said as he stood up. 

Dean tugged you towards the door, mumbling to Sam that the two of you would meet him outside. Next thing you knew, you were being dragged through the police station and into the women’s bathroom. Dean had enough sense to lock the door behind him before pushing you against the counter below the mirror and smashing his lips against yours.   
You grunted in pain as his hips ground against yours. You didn’t mind getting rough in the bedroom. But this was too much too soon, and you were not in the mood for it at all, especially after his little episode in the interview room. 

You pushed against his shoulders, but he didn’t stop, he only moved his lips from your mouth to your neck.

“Dean, stop,” you said as you pushed at him again. His hands tightened on your waist and you winced at the pain. And suddenly it wasn’t Dean groping at you anymore. It was a man. A much older, much meaner man. And you were much smaller. The flashback only happened for a second, but it was enough to send your heart running. Your breath came out in pants, though not for the reason that Dean wanted. 

You pushed at him frantically and begged him to stop. The fear in your voice brought Dean back to the present and he pulled away from you as though you’d burned him. 

Dean watched you in horror. You were hunched over, your breath coming out raggedly and you pressed your hand against your stomach as an old pain in your abdomen flared up again. 

“Y/N – “ He stepped forward, arms stretched towards you, but you held a hand up to stop him in his tracks.

“Please. Don’t. Just – just give me a second,” you said.

He did as he was told. His hands clenched nervously by his side and he looked around the room, as though he could find something to help you ease the panic attack. 

Eventually, you straightened and turned to lean your hands against the counter. Dean moved forward to stand beside you. “I’m .. I’m so sorry.” You said nothing. “There’s nothing that I can say, or ever do to show you just how sorry I am.”

“Yes, there is,” you said.

He watched you expectantly and you looked up at him. “You want to make it up to me? The next time I say stop, you stop.” His face dropped. And you felt so guilty for making him feel guilty. You knew he hadn’t meant it, that he would have stopped before it went too far. But he needed to learn that he couldn’t do things like that with you. He needed to learn to communicate, to make sure you were a hundred percent okay with everything he was doing when it came to sex and touching. 

“You can’t just do something like that to me, Dean. I’m not like other girls. I won’t just get pissy at you for it. It really hurts me.”

The pain in your abdomen was a dull ache now, but it brought back so much shit. You hadn’t had the pains in so long that you’d managed to convince yourself your entire childhood was just a bad dream. It didn’t really happen. The pain was a physical reminder that it did. All the doctors had said that it was just psychological. But it felt real to you. 

“I know,” Dean said. Tears welled up in his eyes as you forced yourself to swallow your own. “I’m sorry. I really am. I never want to hurt you like that. And I can’t believe I wouldn’t … it’s just … what that guy said … and then ... it felt like we were back there.”

‘I know. I know,” you said gently. You reached forward to cup his face but stopped when you felt yourself become nauseous at the thought of touching him. “I’m not going to say it’s okay, because it’s not, Dean. But I do forgive you. And I even understand. We’re going to be okay, though. You just have to be careful.”

Dean nodded vigorously and slid his hand across the counter to touch yours. You pulled away before he could. “No,” you said. “Not for a little while. I need to settle down. To remind myself that it’s you and that you won’t hurt me. Just … not until I say okay. Okay?”

Dean nodded and you went wide around him to leave the bathroom.

Sam gave you a questioning look when he saw you wringing your hands together and Dean dragging his feet behind you, looking for all the world like someone had just shot his puppy. You shook your head at him and he dropped the subject immediately. You supposed it was one benefit of making him feel guilty; he wouldn’t risk pissing you off. 

****

The pawnshop was about as stereotypical as you could get. Same goes for the guy behind the counter with his feet up on the glass. Although his surfer dude vibe made him the most out of place person in town. But maybe he hadn’t always been a ‘surfer dude’, maybe he just started dressing that way when he got the flashy red Ferrari out front of his store. Maybe he had dreams of packing up shop and cruising to California. The wind in his grease slick hair. 

Either way, his macho, jock, rich boy act made him the most loathsome person of the day. He deserved a medal. Which is exactly why Dean and Sam did the talking when you all walked in. 

“Hello, sir. Agents Neil and Sixx, FBI,” Sam said, motioning between him and his brother. You weren’t really sure why he neglected to mention your alias. But you figured with your mopey attitude in the car ride there, he’d just assumed you weren’t up for playing cop. Sam held up his fake FBI badge. “Uh, we're looking for a tablet.”

Dean put his hands on top of the table about forty centre meters apart, as though he were measuring something out. “About, uh, yea big, got some hieroglyphic crap on it,” he   
said. 

“Sold to you by a thief named Clem. Ring a bell?”

The clerk smiled that stupid jock smile that made you want to punch out his perfect teeth. “Nope.” As if the wellbeing of the entire world wasn’t resting on the god damn tablet.   
Dean and Sam exchanged looks and you knew that they were trying to hold in their anger and play good cop. You didn’t have the patience for that. You were becoming increasingly irritated. And if you weren’t so angry, that fact might worry you. 

You pushed past the brothers and slammed your hands down onto the counter. “Look, Hilary Banks, I’ve had a really bad day, so I’m not in the mood for all your bullshit. If you want to do this the rough way, then I am more than happy to oblige.”

He smiled that smile again. You even reached over the counter to smack it off his face, but Sam’s large hand on your shoulder pulled you back. You shook him off and took a step back from the counter. 

“Sure,” the guy – Lyle, his nametag read – said. It was a douche bag name for a douche bag guy. He gestured to the corners of the room and you spotted the cameras that were pointed directly at you. “We can do it that way if you want to get famous. Agent …”

“Agent I’m-gonna-kick-your-ass-if-you-don’t-give-us-the-tablet. Security cameras or not,” you growled. 

Lyle shrugged. Mrs. Tran stepped forward. “That your car outside?”

Lyle frowned at her. “What's it to you, mail-order?”

“Hey!” You slammed your hand down on the counter and took pleasure from his frightened jump. 

“I got it,” Mrs. Tran said with a smile as she strolled over to stand beside you. She looked at Lyle. “I notice you're driving with expired tags, maybe because you just acquired it in a   
trade, and I'm guessing that means you haven't registered it yet, which means you haven't paid the tax. Is that correct?”

Lyle shifted in his seat, his feet dropping from the counter. “None of your business.”

Mrs. Tran looked at her son. “Kevin. Average blue book on a 2010 Ferrari F430 Spider?”

Kevin thought for all of three seconds before answering. “$217,000.”

“And the 5% Wyoming tax?”

“$10,850,” you said. Mrs. Tran and Kevin looked at you in shock while Dean and Sam stifled their smiles. You frowned and tugged at the bottom of your coat. “What?” you said to Kevin’s mother. “I’m smart.”

She scoffed, but there was an ounce of respect in her eyes when she looked at you now. Like you’d pleasantly surprised her by being something more than she thought you were. It almost made you feel proud. Not even your own mother had looked at you like that before. 

Mrs. Tran looked back at Lyle with a condescending smile. “$10,000. Something tells me you're the type who might balk at a tax bill that big.”

Lyle swallowed. “W-what is this, an FBI audit?” 

“No. But my brother, who happens to work for the Wyoming tax assessor's office could arrange that if he thought something untoward was happening here. So what's it going to be – the tablet or that piece of Eurotrash crap you call a car?” 

For the millionth time that day, you had to bite your tongue and not tell Kevin that his mum was insanely hot. 

****

Turned out, Lyle didn’t have the tablet after all. You almost followed through on your threat, but Mrs. Tran managed to hustle you out of the store. The pawn slip that he’d given Dean led to a very green motel, though. Room 126 to be precise. 

Sam knocked but there was no answer. He turned to Dean. “Sure this is the right place?”

Dean shrugged and looked back down at the slip in his hand. “It’s what the pawn slip says.”

“Kevin?” The five of you turned to see a man decked out in a snazzy suit with top hat and cane. You thought he might have been what Mr. Peanut would have looked like if he’d been human and not … well, not a peanut. 

“Who wants to know?” Dean growled, immediately going on the defensive and storming up to him. By the way the man was smiling, you figured he was completely unconcerned by Dean’s intimidation tactics. And if he knew Kevin, then he knew who Dean was. If he wasn’t scared of Dean … well, you weren’t sure that you wanted him storming up to someone potentially powerful enough to snuff out the Winchesters. 

You grabbed Dean’s sleeve and pulled him back towards you. He gave you a shocked look, surprised that you’d reach out for him so soon after what he’d done. But he didn’t question it. He moved back to stand by you, even taking up his usual stance. Just enough in front and to the side of you that his shoulder partially hid you from view, but close enough he could feel your chest brush against the back of his arm every time you breathed. You could still see everything that was going on, but in this position, he could easily sweep you behind him to Sam if he thought you were in danger. You knew you could handle yourself. But the Winchesters were very protective and very possessive – Dean more so on the possessiveness. So you let them get away with their little over-protective, alpha dog acts because they needed to feel in control. They needed to feel like they could protect the person they loved for once. 

Guilt started to chew away at your gut again. But before you could do something stupid, like reach behind you and take Sam’s hand in yours, Mr. Peanut addressed Dean. “Relax, Dean,” he said. “I'm not going to steal your Prophet.” He looked at you. “Or your precious wife-to-be.” Before either you or Dean could dispute, or even gape over, the comment, he looked at Mrs. Tran. “Ah. And you must be Kevin's mother. Um... Beau.” He stepped forward with a smile and gently took her hand in his. “And it is my absolute pleasure.” He kissed the back of her hand, causing a blush to rise up on her cheeks. He took a step back again and looked at Kevin. “And Kevin. Imagine my luck. Here I was, working so hard looking for you that I never stopped to think you might be looking for me. I have something for you.”

“What is it?” Dean asked.

Beau pulled an envelope out his pocket. It had Kevin’s name scrawled in beautiful cursive across the front of it. “An invitation, dear man, to a very exclusive auction.”

“Let me guess,” you said, “where you'll be selling the tablet?”

“Well, when we acquire an item as hot as the Word of God, it's smart to unload it as fast as possible. And we are in such desperate need of a headliner for tonight's gala.”

“Well, I hope you have four extra tickets to your little eBay party, 'cause the Prophet's with us,” Dean said.

Beau smiled. “If you're worried about the safety of the Prophet, rest assured that we have a strict "no casting, no cursing, no supernaturally flicking the two of you against the wall and making love eyes at your bride" policy.”

“Why do you keep calling her that?” Sam asked.

Beau rolled his eyes as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Please. Everyone who’s anyone in the supernatural community has heard of the psychotic little hunter that has The Winchesters, an angel and the King of Hell wrapped around her little finger. Why do you think none of the big players have tried going after her yet?” Sam and Dean shared a look. “Well that’s what you were waiting for, right? For a big bad monster to come up and snatch away what you hold dearest. Well, never fear, no one dares try with the line-up of bodyguards she has.”

You were suddenly angry again. Angry that you had a massive target painted on your back. Angry that an entire bad-guy community knew and talked about you. Angry that they thought the most important people in your life were nothing but little puppies following you around. Mr. Peanut couldn’t have been farther from the truth. 

You pushed past Dean. “Yeah? Where’s your line up? We’ll see how well they hold up,” you growled. Dean’s thick arm wrapped around the front of your shoulders and pulled you back against him. You let him. You could have fought – to no avail considering he was physically stronger than you – but you didn’t. You knew your anger was irrational. You wanted to believe that the sudden spike in your irritation levels had nothing to do with your PTSD re-surfacing. But with the multitude of episodes you’d had that day – hell, that you’d had since Purgatory – you were finding it difficult to convince yourself of that. 

“Of course,” Beau said as he watched you. “Her fiery temper is news in and of itself. Taking down angels and vampires on her own? When the Winchesters couldn’t?” He shrugged. “I mean, people say you got lucky. And maybe you did. But that’s a lot of luck for a little human.”

“Look,” Sam said, trying his best – as always – to derail the situation before it got out of hand. “Why don’t you tell us how you managed to swing those policies you were talking about?”

Beau looked at him. “Well, I am the right hand of a God, after all – Plutus, specifically.”

Dean scoffed. “Is that even a planet anymore?”

Everyone looked at him. Even you craned your neck back to give him a ‘stop talking’ look. He shrugged but kept his mouth zipped.

“It's the God of greed,” Beau said. “And my liege has warded these premises against Hell, Heaven, and beyond – quite necessary with some of the players we see. And incidentally, quite possibly the safest place your precious Prophet could be. Mmm. Well, since time is of the essence, perhaps I'll just go ahead and add a plus-four to the Prophet's invitation. Copacetic?”

He tossed the envelope into the air. Everyone watched as it fluttered in the breeze, and Beau was gone by the time it landed on the ground. You really hated when the supernatural did that. 

“Thanks, Mr. Peanut!” you yelled, yanking yourself out of Dean’s grip and straightening your jacket in a huff. 

“All right,” Dean said. “What do we have to bid?” Sam scoffed. “What? We can't just show up there empty-handed.”

“Dean, all we have to our names is a few hacked gold cards,” Sam said.

“All right. Well, then, we're gonna have to get creative.”

You smiled and turned on your heel to look at Dean’s Impala. “Well …”

Dean shook his head and scurried to stand between you and the Impala. “No. Uh-uh. Say it and I will kill you, your children, and your grandchildren.” You folded your arms and   
stifled a smile. 

“Wouldn’t those be your kids?” Kevin said. You all looked at him. He shrugged. “What? Sam’s kids? I mean you and Sam were all chummy last time we saw each other, but now you and Dean …”

You, Dean and Sam shared the awkward look to end all awkward looks. Kids were certainly not on the table for you. At least not for another decade anyway. Maybe never. But you’d hadn’t exactly discussed your future with either of the brothers. Hunters were lucky to have a future, so the three of you just took it a day at a time. But what about when days turned to weeks? Then weeks to months, and months to years? What happened then? What did the future hold for you and the Winchesters?

You turned to Kevin and growled, “Shut up.” There, problem solved. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Um, anyway … the, uh, these auctions – they display the items to the bidders beforehand, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I mean, all we need to do is get Kevin close enough to memorise the spell.”

“Exactly.” 

Dean looked at Kevin. “What do you think, brainiac? Think you can swing it?”

Mrs. Tran scoffed. “Of course he can swing it ... if the bumper stickers on my Previa mean anything.”

Mrs. Tran, Kevin, and Sam began heading towards their respective sides of the car. You folded your arms and smirked as you watched Dean stroke a hand down the hood of the Impala. “She didn't mean it, baby,” he said.

“Didn’t I?”

He turned to you and jabbed a finger in your direction. “You’re the devil.”

You laughed. “Nah. I’ve just got his number on my phone.”

****

So, of all the things you’d expected to be at a monster auction warded against all types of magic, a metal detector wasn’t even on the list. And, by the look on Dean’s face, he   
hadn’t expected it either. You looked at each other and swallowed. 

“Uh, you’re packing too, right?” you said. Dean nodded. Sam, Kevin and Mrs. Tran all turned to look at the two of you. 

“Here goes nothing,” Dean said. He cringed and hunched in on himself as he stepped through the metal detector. It blared to life with flashing red lights and a lot of noise, drawing everyone’s attention.

Beau was standing by the security guard smiling. “Now, now, Dean. The system only works when everyone participates.” 

He held a box out to Dean, presumably for him to put his weapons in, before looking at where you stood frozen at the entrance.

You let a guilty smile spread across your face and said, “Yeah. You’re gonna want to swing a box my way too.”

****

There were auction attendees spread out through the run down warehouse, feasting their eyes upon some of the most valuable supernatural items in the world and rubbing their coin purses with glee. They all looked so human. That, you decided, is what unnerved you the most. 

“How are we supposed to know who’s who?” you said.

Sam smiled and leant down until his breath brushed against your ear. You hated that it made you shiver in anticipation. You made a mental note to have a serious talk with Sam. The two of you couldn’t keep going on like this forever. 

“It's pretty simple, Y/N,” he said. “They're all monsters.”

“Hey,” Dean said, suddenly dashing over to a nearby glass case. Inside was the Word of God. At least, that’s what you could only assume it was. Two pieces of metal had been fixed to both the front and back of the tablet so no one could read it. “Great.”

“I guess we're not as original as we thought,” Kevin said, pursing his lips.

You nodded and put on a calm façade, even as your heart leapt against your ribcage. You had a moment to think it was odd how angry you’d gotten at Clem and Lyle, and yet you weren’t at all angry about the current situation. Scared, nervous, yes. But not irritated. 

“It’s okay,” you said. “We just got to come up with a plan ‘B’.”

“And what, pray tell, could possibly have been plan ‘A’?” The five of you turned at the sound of Crowley’s voice. As usual, he only had eyes for you. You made another mental note to have a serious talk with him too. Everyone was getting talks. Talks all round. “Bring the prophet to the most dangerous place on Earth, memorise the tablet, and then vamoose?” You swallowed and Crowley smiled. “Hello, Kitten.”

“Crowley,” you said. 

He reached forward and squeezed the tip of your nose – as had become his custom with you. “You and I need to have a little chat later.” His eyes flicked to the space far above your head, and by the heat at your back, you knew that the brothers were right behind you. “Without your dogs, of course.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said. 

Crowley smiled. “It’s not really your choice, is it? Childhood hero or cheating ex-lover? Who do you think she’ll go to?” He turned to the Tran’s before Sam got a chance to defend himself. “Kevin. What a pleasure to see you. Sorry about your little playdate. Her name?” He put a finger to his chin, pretending as though he were trying to remember Channing, the poor girl he’d murdered in cold blood. He shrugged when he came up blank. “Ah. Well, if you're gonna make an omelet, sometimes you have to break some spines.” Kevin’s jaw ticked but he said nothing as Crowley looked down at Mrs. Tran. “And who is this lovely young thing? Must be your sister.”

That was when Crowley got his first beating of the day. Mrs. Tran’s fist landed hard enough against his mouth that it drew blood. You were envious that you couldn’t will yourself to hate him that much. 

“Stay away from my son,” Mrs. Tran growled. 

Crowley groaned and wiped away the blood at his lip. “Charming. Defiling her corpse has just made number one on my to-do list.” Dean and Sam stepped forward. Their hands   
automatically going to the small of theirs back where they normally kept their weapons. “Uh, uh, uh.” Crowley looked around and took a step back. “Don't mind a little love tap, but anything more, and our mookie pals here may just throw you out, and that would be a shame.”

“He’s right guys,” you said. “It’s not worth it.”

“Listen to Kitten, Moose. Squirrel.” Just then, a rather large, bald man came through the entrance. “Ah. Here comes our host.”

A man called for everyone to take their seats and Dean said, to no one in particular, “That's Plutus? What is he, God of the candy aisle?” You snorted. 

“Gentlemen. Ladies,” Beau said as he strolled past behind Plutus. “The auction is starting.”

Crowley wished you luck and you all followed him into the bidding room. 

Falling into step beside Mrs. Tran, you leaned down and whispered, “Nice right hook.” You smiled when she chuckled. 

You hung back by the door when you turned to seek out Dean, only to see him talking to a tall, thin boy dressed in a fast food uniform. You couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but, going by the fact that Dean looked grief stricken and he hadn’t killed the boy yet, you thought that he may have been an angel asking about Castiel. 

Castiel. 

You hadn’t allowed yourself to think about him for longer than a few seconds since you got back. It had broken your heart to see him let go like that. You’d cried the first night you’d spent outside of Purgatory without him. Not even Dean knew that. You’d spent so long being angry at Castiel for disappearing when you were a child, and now you regretted every moment of anger you’d felt. You wished you could go back and cherish your time with him. You wished you’d hugged him more. Told him how much he meant to you. You still remembered how happy he’d been when you found him in Purgatory, and all you’d done was get angry at him for leaving you again. You faced the facts. You were a shitty person.

Eventually, the boy left Dean and headed towards the bidding room, stopping first to put a hand on your shoulder and smile at you. “It’s good to finally see you, Y/N. Castiel always spoke highly of you.”

You suddenly felt very embarrassed to know that Castiel discussed you with other angels. “Uh.” You laughed nervously. “I hope he didn’t talk me up too much. He tends to think there’s more to me than meets the eye. I’m not sure what got into him.”

“Nonsense. Many of us have faith that you’ll live up to what is expected of you. There’s a reason you’ve survived this long with the Winchesters. My name is Samandriel, by the way. I want you to know that you have a friend in me.”

“Oh.” You straightened and looked at him in a new light. The only other angels you’d met besides Castiel hadn’t been the nicest people in the world, so you hadn’t known what to expect. But you hadn’t expected so much kindness. You supposed he must have really liked Castiel. You smiled at Samandriel. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. I know it would mean a lot to Cassie too.”

Samandriel smiled and squeezed your shoulder before brushing past you. 

****

You sat next to Sam at the end of the aisle of foldable chairs. Dean sat at the other end near Kevin to cover both sides. Sam nudged you with his elbow and shook his wallet at you. You scoffed.

“Dude, you and Dean pay for my breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. You really think I got cash?” you said. He bitch-faced you and you rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anything. I don’t wear jewelry. I had no possessions when I was admitted into the ward. I have nothing, Sam.” He suddenly looked sympathetic, and you realised how pathetic you’d just sounded. 

“Don't know why you're so keen on that hunk of dirt,” Crowley said. You turned to look at him where he sat behind you, but he was staring at the back of Sam’s head. “So it tells you how to blast back a few demons? I'll just make more. Can't get rid of all of my black-eyed boys, Samantha.”

Sam turned and gave him a wry smile. “Yeah, we'll see.”

Crowley frowned at his cryptic response and looked at you. You couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. Everyone was making you feel guilty nowadays. You kept telling yourself that closing the gates of Hell was the right thing to do. No matter that you owed Crowley your life. 

You vaguely listened to Sam and Dean bicker over how much money they’d managed to scrounge up. But the moment Beau started the first bidding at three tonnes of dwarven gold, you knew you were all done for.

“Plan ‘C’?” you said, kicking your feet up onto the back of the seat in front of you, much to the dismay of the person – thing? – sitting on it.

“Big time,” Dean said. 

****

Just as an old man in the front row bid five-eighths of a virgin for Mjolnir, Dean came back moping over the failure of plan ‘C’. He gripped the back of your chair and leaned down to tell you and Sam all about it. 

“Maybe you should try plan "D" for dumbass,” Crowley quipped. 

You turned in your seat and glared at him. “Hey. Would you put a lid on it? Can’t you be nice for once in your demonic existence?”

He frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m Crowley, have we met?”

You snorted. “Right. Sorry, bad week.”

You turned back around and grumbled under your breath as Dean forced all four of you to move down one seat so he could sit next to you.

Beau stepped onto the stage and you perked up when you saw he was holding the tablet in his hand. He raised it high so everyone could see. “Our next lot, the Word of God – capital ‘G’ – very old, very rare.”

Sam gave you one last look before he made to stand up with the measly two grand and Costco card he’d managed to round up. Crowley beat him too it.

“Three billion dollars,” the King of Hell bid.

“Whoa,” you breathed as you looked at him. 

Samandriel stood up just behind him. “The Mona Lisa.”

Crowley considered the counter offer for a moment before saying, “The real Mona Lisa, where she's topless.”

You gave Dean a goofy grin. “I could get on board with that,” you whispered. He gave you a hard look. “Oh come on. It’s a painting.”

“Vatican City,” Samandriel said.

“Alaska,” Crowley said.

Beau scoffed. “Palin and a bridge to nowhere? No, thanks.”

“All right. The moon.”

“You’re bidding the moon?” Dean said.

Crowley shrugged. “Yeah. Claimed it for Hell. Think a man named Buzz gets to go into space without making a deal?”

Beau looked at Plutus who shook his head. “I’m sorry, gentlemen,” Beau said. “It seems that our reserve price has not been met. So in order to stimulate the bidding, we're going to add an item to this lot.” You frowned, wondering what he could possibly sell alongside the tablet. And then he pointed at Kevin and your stomach dropped. “Kevin Tran, Prophet of the Lord.”

Kevin suddenly disappeared from his seat and reappeared manacled to the banister beside Plutus’s chair. Mrs. Tran cried out as she stood from her own chair. 

“Mr. Tran,” Beau continued, “is the only person on Earth who can read this tablet, which makes them a perfect matching set.”

 

“So out of your league,” Crowley said.

Beau tried to start the biddings again but Mrs. Tran stopped him. “Please,” she said. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I have a 401K, my house.”

Plutus chuckled without looking up from the newspaper in his lap. And, for the second time that day, you wondered why your irritation didn’t flare up.

Beau gave her a condescending smile. “Good effort, Mrs. Tran, but I'm afraid this is a little out of your price range.”

“My soul.” That had you straightening up in your chair and looking at the frantic woman. Obviously, Kevin cried out for his mother to not do it. Even Dean asked if she was up for it, but she seemed determined enough. 

“Interesting,” Plutus said, finally putting his newspaper aside.

Crowley moved around the chairs to stand next to Dean. “If it's souls that you're after, I can give you a million souls.”

Dean looked over his shoulder at Samandriel. “Hey, flyboy, are you gonna get in on this?”

Samandriel shook his head. “We guard the souls in Heaven. We don't horse-trade them.”

“So we have a deal,” Crowley said. 

Plutus looked at him. “It's not about the quantity, chief. It's about the sacrifice. This little lady's soul is the most valuable thing she has. It's everything. Are you willing to offer   
everything, Mr. Crowley?” Dean taunted the King, but Crowley only had eyes for you. “Well?” Plutus said. “You don’t have a soul. We all know the most precious thing you have is right here in this room. So can you do it? Are you willing to give her up?”

You looked at Plutus and then back at Crowley. He was still staring at you, as though it were the last time he’d ever see you again. “Crowley,” your voice cracked. Surely, Plutus couldn’t mean what you thought he did. “Crowley. What’s he talking about?”

“I’m waiting,” Plutus said. 

Crowley blinked, and whatever trance he’d seemed to be in broke. He looked at Plutus. “No. Turns out I’m not so willing after all. Funny, that.” He turned and left the room, leaving you to stare after him.

Plutus shrugged and looked at Mrs. Tran. “Congrats, sweetheart.” She burst into tears and thanked him profusely. You knew she wouldn’t be doing that for much longer. 

****

You were waiting outside the bidding room. Sam and Dean were inside with Mrs. Tran trying to comfort her. Sam said that you would be best for the job, you were the most empathetic of the three of them, but you’d been feeling weird all day. 

You’d lost your temper countless times over meaningless things. Dean had brought on a panic attack as well as the chronic pelvic pain you hadn’t felt in years. Then, in there, when Mrs. Tran bid her soul, you just … you didn’t care. It had shocked you, sure, and you felt sympathetic to her cause. But you couldn’t bring yourself to get angry over it. Or sad. It meant nothing to you, almost. And you knew that wasn’t right. You liked Mrs. Tran. You didn’t want to see her lose her soul. So why didn’t you try to do something?  
The old you – the institution you – would have offered your own soul instead. Or, at the very least, you would have cussed out Plutus until he gave you the damn tablet just to shut you up. So what happened? You didn’t know. And because of that, you were in no shape to offer her a shoulder to cry on. 

“Kitten.” You looked up in shock to see Crowley. 

“Crowley? I thought you left.”

“Not yet. But I don’t have a lot of time before I do leave. I still wanted to have that chat with you.”

You nodded. “Right. Um … “

“What happened in there … I know you’re not stupid, love. You had to have been picking up what the old bat was putting down.”

“Yeah. No, I got it.” You looked up at him. “I was what he was telling you to give up.”

Crowley nodded and watched you for a moment. “So … what do you have to say about that? Something witty I hope. I’d hate to have taken all the humour out of this relationship.”  
You gave him a sad smile. “I don’t have a joke for you, Crowley.” You pressed your lips together and tried to think of the best way to phrase what you were trying to say. “Look, I … I’m flattered, really. But, I’m in love with someone else.” Two someone’s actually. 

“What are you on about?” Crowley put his hands up and stepped back. “No. No, no, no. That’s not what I mean at all. I was a father figure to you, for christ’s sake. That’s terribly vile, even by my standards.”

“Oh. Oh!” You laughed. “Oh God, I’m sorry Crowley. I completely misunderstood. Okay, so … I’m like a daughter to you?”

“Exactly.” He put a hand over his heart. “Christ. If I had a heart, I would’ve had a stroke just now. I can’t believe that’s what was going through your bloody mind.” 

“I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

“Yes, well, you’re like the daughter I never wanted.” You smiled and ducked your head. “Look. I know with Moose and Squirrel … well, we’re star-crossed lovers and all that jazz.”

“And you wonder why I thought you were in love with me?” you said, looking back up at him with a crooked smile. He rolled his eyes. “I’m on their side, Crowley.” Nothing in his face changed, but he did straighten out his cuff links, and that was enough to tell you that he was upset by what you’d said. You stepped forward and placed a hand over his heart. “I love you, Crowley. No matter what happens. I need you to know that. One day – maybe tomorrow, maybe a year from now, maybe five – you’re going to hate me because I’ll take the Winchester’s side over your's one too many times. You’ll resent me, no matter what you say now. It’s inevitable. But despite that, I need you to know that I will still love you. No matter what. No matter who you kill. No matter how much I may claim to hate you or loathe you in the future. A piece of me will always belong to you. I owe you everything. Nothing I do can ever settle that debt.”

He glanced at his feet. “What if I told you coming to the dark side would settle that debt?”

You gave him another sad smile. “Would you really make me do that?”

He looked at you again and pressed his lips together. His hand fell over yours where it sat atop his heart. He squeezed it once, and then he was gone, leaving it to fall through the air and back to your side.

****

You waited in a small room with Sam, Dean, and Plutus, and watched as the old man who’d had five-eighths of a virgin hugged Mjolnir to his chest and cooed to it. Beau came in soon after with Mrs. Tran in tow. Dean put his arm out in front of her and looked at Plutus.

“Where’s the kid?” he said. 

Plutus snapped his fingers and suddenly a man appeared, pushing Kevin in front of him.

“What are you gonna do with her soul?” Sam said.

Plutus smiled and shrugged. “Whatever I want. I might sell it, or maybe I'll just tuck it away with my other precious objects, let them keep me warm at night. Mm.” He chuckled as he watched Mrs. Tran refrain from caving into the fear that was so prominent in her eyes. He held his hands out to her. “Whenever you're ready, dear.”

After a moment, Mrs. Tran took a deep breath and stepped forward with her hand out.

“Wait,” Dean growled. He took a hold of Mrs. Tran’s wrist and yanked her sleeve up to reveal a large patch of burned skin where her anti-possession tattoo should have been.   
Mrs. Tran looked up at Dean. “Hello, boys,” she said. Only it wasn’t her voice that left her lips. It was Crowley’s. She looked up at Sam and her eyes went red. She flung her arms out and Sam and Dean were sent flying. Dean landing on one side of the room, Sam on the other. 

Mrs. Tran – Crowley – turned towards you. You stood between him and Plutus, unsure of what to do without your weapons. She – he – smiled at you. “Sorry, Kitten.” Her hand flicked towards you and you were sent flying in Sam’s direction, landing on him with a grunt. 

He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to your feet just in time for you to see Mrs. Tran and Beau tag team Plutus and his guard with a stake. 

“Can’t do all my tricks, but I can do enough,” Crowley said as he picked up the tablet from the nearby table.

“Get out of her!” Kevin yelled.

You noticed Dean reach for the box of confiscated weapons. He pulled out his demon knife. 

“If I had a nickel for every time someone screamed that at me...” Crowley said. Mrs. Tran turned on her heel, then, as Dean leapt to his feet. You had her tackled to the ground before she could leave the room.

Dean pulled you to your feet and you stood between him and Sam, acting as a barrier between Mrs. Tran and Kevin. 

“Getting in touch with your feminine side, huh, Crowley?” you said.

Mrs. Tran smiled. “Something like that.”

“Well, come and get him,” Dean said. 

Mrs. Tran looked over your shoulders at Kevin before shrugging. “One out of two ain't bad.” Then she was legging it out of the room.

Dean ran after her, yelling out for you and Sam to watch Kevin. You pushed Sam after him. “Make sure he doesn’t kill Kevin’s mum,” you said. 

Kevin tried to rush past you but you grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Don’t, Kevin. Let them take care of it. Sam will keep your mum safe.”

Kevin looked as though he might argue, but then his eyes were wide and he was pushing you out of the way as a bullet went whistling right past your head. Kevin ducked behind a pillar, and you ran to dive behind a table turned on its side as Beau shot at you. You were thankful he was an awful shot. Once you were sure you weren’t going to be hit by a stray bullet, you pulled your arms from your head and noticed the five-eighths-of-a-virgin man sitting next to you, cradling Mjolnir to his chest. You’d completely forgotten that he’d even been in the room.

You heard footsteps and then Beau yelling ‘don’t’, and you knew that Kevin had tried to make a run for it. It took you a moment, but you managed to wrestle Mjolnir from the old man’s grip and snuck up behind Beau. He was gloating over owning two islands when you brought the hammer down on his head. Lightning sparked and blood splattered. Kevin   
ran the moment he had the chance. 

You panted as you looked down at Beau. The hammer was lighter than it seemed, but something about holding it had your blood pumping and adrenaline rushing through your body.

“Okay,” the old man said. You looked over at him. He was looking at the hammer with greed in his eyes. And his hands shook like he was a junkie looking for his next fix. “Give it back,” he said, holding his hands out to you. 

You lifted the hammer, preparing to give it back to him when you had a sudden image of the bloodied, brown paper bag he’d had. You clenched your teeth and looked at him. Anger suddenly bubbled up in your system again. 

“Where’d you get the five-eighths of a virgin?” you said.

He gave you a sheepish smile and shrugged. With a grunt, you hefted the hammer into the air and sent it swinging down onto him. Blood spattered and lightning flashed again, but this time there was nobody left. 

****

Mrs. Tran sat in a chair, officially Crowley free. Though you didn’t think she looked any better. She hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t even looked at anyone. Kevin sat across from her, his head bowed as he held her hands. You stood between Sam and Dean. Sam seemed okay, but you could tell Dean was furious. Sam mentioned that Crowley said something to him, but neither of them had told you what, and it wasn’t the time to push the subject. 

“Listen, Kev,” Dean said, “what your mom went through – it's hell. Trust me, I know. But she seems tough. She'll pull it together.”

Kevin sniffled and looked at Dean. If looks could kill … “You tried to kill her,” he said. 

Dean sighed. “Kid, in this life –“

“Shut up! I don't want to hear any more of your crappy speeches. I just want to talk to my mom alone.”

“Sure,” Sam said. “Five minutes.” He put his hands on your shoulders and steered you out of the room behind Dean. 

Once the doors were closed behind the three of you, you turned to Dean. “Dean were you really going to ...”

“What?” he said. “Slit soccer mom's throat? Yeah, I was. I wish I had.”

“Dean – “

“It was Crowley, Y/N. I don’t care what kind of thing you got going on with that freak.”

“Hey,” you snapped. “You know it’s not like that.”

He licked his lips. “Sorry. No matter what meat suit he's in, I should have knifed him. I mean, yeah, it would have sucked, and I would have hated myself, but what's one more nightmare, right?” Your brows furrowed in concern and you reached out to run a hand down his chest. He nodded at you. “How are you doing? After earlier, I mean. You seem okay with touching me again.”

You shrugged. “It sucks, knowing that the PTSD is back. I guess it never really left, though, right? It was just buried under mountains of medication. Going to an auction with monsters does wonders in distracting a crazy person, though.” You smiled to soften the blow of your self-deprecation. 

“Hey,” he said as he grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards him. “You’re not crazy.” 

“Guys,” Sam said. You both looked at him. He was staring at the door to the bidding room where Kevin was with his mum. “It seem a little quiet in there to you?”

Turned out, Kevin had taken his five minutes and ran. He left a note, though, you thought that that was considerate at least. Until Dean told you what was on the note. 

“Since we lost the tablet, Kevin figures we don't need him,” Dean said.

“Yeah, but Crowley still does. What's that kid thinking?!” Sam growled.

Dean paused a moment as he looked at the note. “He thinks people I don't need anymore – they end up dead.”

Sam sighed. “Dean, that – that – that's not true. You know that.”

Dean fell heavily into the same chair that Mrs. Tran had been sitting in earlier. You put a hand on Sam’s arm and said, “Give us a minute.” Sam nodded and left the room again.   
You turned to look at Dean. His elbows were resting on his knees and his head lay in his hands, the note forgotten on the ground. You pressed your lips together and walked over to kneel in front of him. You rubbed your hands up and down his forearms.

“I don’t need a pep talk,” he said gruffly.

“I’m not here to give you a pep talk,” you said.

“Then what do you want?” His face was still buried in his hands. You ran your fingers through his hair. 

“I want to support you. I’m here to give you whatever you need right now, Dean. Just say the word.”

He lifted his head and looked at you. You smiled and cupped his face in your hands. “I don’t … I mean – I just –“ His breath caught in his throat and you pulled him against you. His arms went around your waist and you cooed in his ear as you stroked your fingers through his hair.

“I know. I know, Dean. It’s okay. I’m here,” you whispered.

“He said that I’d use you up.” His voice was strained. 

“Who did?”

“Crowley. He said I wouldn’t be able to handle your baggage. That eventually I’d think it was too hard and I’d just desert you. Leave you behind like I did everyone else.”

You pulled back and held his face between your hands again. Forced him to look you in the eye. “Is that what you’re going to do?” you said. He shook his head. “Good. I believe you. Crowley’s trying to get into your head. That’s all. I love you, Dean Winchester. And I know you love me too. Yeah. We’ve hit a rough patch. We both have. And I know that what happened to Cassie is bothering you just as much as it’s bothering me. But we’ll get through this. Together.”

“I just … I want things to go back to the way they were. Before Purgatory. When you weren’t mad at Sam. When we still had Cas. Before you were hurting,” he said. 

You gave him a sad smile and stroked your thumb against his cheek. “I was hurting long before Purgatory, Dean.”

“It’s gotten worse now. You try to hide it from Sam and me, but we can tell.”

“I hide it because there’s nothing you can do. I need professional help, Dean. And neither you or Sam are psychiatrists. Unless you got a few college degrees that you’ve been holding out on me.”

Dean laughed and shook his head. “You said you were here to support me?” You nodded. “Well, me and Sammy, we’re here to support you too. Promise me, you won’t keep hiding things like that from us.”

You nodded again. “I promise.”


	14. Drug Up The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place between episodes and is much shorter. It addresses the readers current issues with PTSD as a result of her past.

Dean’s hand was tight over your mouth. His breath was in your ear as he whispered the filthiest things to you. Your hand reached back and squeezed his ass, pulling him tighter against you and leaving scratch marks on his skin. He gave you a particularly deep thrust and you bit down on the palm of his hand. He growled in your ear and told you to be quiet. You hadn’t even noticed the keening wails that vibrated in your throat. 

Sam lay asleep in the bed next to the two of you. You hadn’t wanted to have sex with Dean in the bed while Sam slept a metre away. Guilt churned in your gut just having thought about it. You’d even slapped Dean in the arm when he said it. But it had been so long. Neither of you had been able to have sex together since seeing Sam in Rufus’s cabin. Something always came up. A case. Sam and Dean fighting. You were exhausted from a case and/or Sam and Dean fighting.

Not this time. A case hadn’t popped up in a week, and Sam and Dean hadn’t fought in almost three days. The three of you were five towns from making it to Rufus’s cabin before you’d all thrown the towel in and decided to crash in a motel for the night. It was now the middle of the night, and you and Dean realised that this was your chance.

Initially, you’d gone out in the Impala to find a nice quiet place to scream each other’s names, but cops were crawling all over the place. Someone had been shot and the killer was still on the loose apparently. The motel was at full capacity, so there was no sneaking around the back of the building or getting raunchy in the back of the Impala in the car park either.

That left one more place. You’d told Dean no at first. He’d backed off immediately, not wanting a repeat of what happened at the police station. You just felt too guilty having sex with Sam’s brother in the bed next to him. So you said no. Begrudgingly. With a pout. Then you cuddled into bed with Dean. He spooned his body against you like he always did, but he didn’t make any advances. He just closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

You couldn’t.

As Dean started to drift off to sleep, you were all too aware of his breath against the back of your neck, and his thigh pressed between your legs. You ground down on his thigh. Just once. That was all it took. You told yourself it was wrong. It was cruel to do it knowing that Sam could wake up any moment and see. But … God. You remembered all the times Dean had tried to get you off in the front of the Impala with his fingers while Sam went into the gas station to pay for fuel. You could never come in time. You were always left horny as hell with ruined underwear.

The same had always happened with Dean. You’d try to get him off in the parking lot of a fast food joint when it was Sam’s turn to go in and get the food. On that one day, they always seemed to have fast customer service. Dean would be left pissed off with blue balls.

You ground yourself down against his thigh again and a strangled sound left your lips. Dean was still awake enough that the noise shook away the tendrils of sleep that clawed at him.

“I can’t wait,” you said. Your voice was breathy, but the room was quite enough that Dean managed to hear you.

He said nothing in return. Didn’t ask why you’d changed your mind. He just pressed wet kisses to the back of your shoulder and yanked your underwear down as far as he could. He did the same with his sweat pants and tried to push his thigh back between your legs. It took some manoeuvring and shifting, and eventually, you had to kick your underwear all the way off and he had to pull one of his legs out of his pants for it to work.

You squeezed your thighs around his muscled one and pressed your core against his naked skin. He pulled his arm back from where it lay under your head, just enough that he could press his hand over your mouth.

His lips were at your ear then. His voice was gravely, and you knew it had been just as much torture for him as it had been for you to wait this long.

“Fuck yourself on my thigh,” he growled.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You rocked your hips against him. You were so desperate for your first orgasm in weeks that you were vigorous enough to make the bed squeak. Dean’s hand had been wrapped tight over your hip, guiding you back and forth, but now he brought it up to wrap his arm tight around your waist and pull you back against him. Minimising your movements to just your hips.

“You feel so hot and wet,” he said. His breath in your ear had your core twitching and your nails digging into the arm around your waist. “I can’t wait to bury myself inside you. God. It’s been so long since I felt you wrap around me like that. It’s been so hard to keep my hands PG 13 and not imagine fucking you on every surface of a room the minute you walk into it.” You moaned and his hand tightened over your mouth. “Shh. Don’t ruin this for us, now. The moment he wakes up, everything stops.”

A low whine vibrated through your throat. You pulled your legs from around his and pushed your ass back against his crotch, rubbing it against his hardened flesh. He didn’t need to be asked twice. He was inside you in seconds and your nails were digging into his ass as he thrust into you. The pace was slow and toe curling. Any faster and the bed would have made enough noise to wake the dead.

The knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter. You were crawling right up to the edge and you could tell by Dean’s irregular thrusts that he was almost there too. It surprised you, normally Dean had endless stamina and lasted far longer, but you figured a lengthy hiatus would do that to a guy.

Eventually, not even he could sustain the slow pace. He rolled you to your stomach, trapping you beneath him so he could go faster without rocking the bed.

Whilst your body fell over the edge immediately at the new angle, your mind went to a dark place. A hand over your mouth, and a hot, sweaty body that was far larger than yours pushing your body into the mattress. Stripping you of your innocence. Marking up skin that was far too young to know the imprint of fingernails on thighs and hips.

Your mind reeled and cracked and you suddenly felt so disgusting. What kind of a pervert orgasms with that image in their head? The guilt and self-loathing tasted rotten in your mouth.

Dean grunted in your ear with one last thrust as he spilled himself inside of you. Your fingers clenched in the sheets and tears pricked your eyes. Dean’s breath was hot against the back of your neck as he let himself come down from his own release. And though you knew it was him, all you could see was the memory of your own father being in his place.

The minute Dean loosened his hold on you to roll to the side you pushed away from him and fell to the floor with a thud. He sat up to watch you and said something that you didn’t hear. You ran towards the bathroom door, stumbling to the ground once more as bile rose up in your throat.

You managed to slam the bathroom door shut and make it to the toilet bowl before your stomach emptied itself. Your eyes watered at the sting of stomach acid.

****

Dean sat in his bed stunned for a moment, staring at the bathroom door that you’d just slammed. With hesitant movements, he reached down and pulled his sweat pants up before stepping out of bed.

“Y/N?” He knocked on the bathroom door but heard nothing except your dry heaves. He flinched at the sound. There were a million reasons why you could be sick right now, but he had an awful feeling settling in his stomach.

“Dean? What’s going on?” Dean looked to his brother. Sam was sitting up now, rubbing at his tired eyes.

“Y/N’s sick,” Dean said.

“Sick? What do you mean? Was it something she ate?”

Dean shrugged, but he’d already stopped paying attention to Sam. “Darlin’?”

The toilet flushed and then there was silence for a minute. Sam was at his side banging on the door a moment later. “Y/N? Is everything alright in there?”

There was silence again, but just as Dean was about to lose his patience and open the door, he heard your timid voice. “Y-yeah … guess the burger from earlier didn’t agree with me.”

Sam gave his brother an I-told-you look and shrugged. Just as he turned to head back to bed, a sob echoed in the bathroom. Dean gave Sam a hard look.

“Does that sound like food poisoning to you?” he said. He opened the door without announcing himself but stopped cold the moment he saw you.

You were curled up in the foetal position on the tiles. Your arms wrapped around your knees and your head tucked into them. You were shaking like a leaf and strangled sobs tore their way out of your throat.

Dean’s blood ran cold and his heart plummeted. He knew he’d caused this. He didn’t know how, but it wasn’t just a coincidence that you’d ended up in this state after sex. Especially not after the incident at the police station.

Sam didn’t freeze in the headlights. The moment he saw you he pushed past Dean and fell to his knees beside you. You cried out when he laid a hand on you and kicked away from him, scrambling backwards until your back hit the bath. You pulled your knees to your chest again and wrapped your arms around them as you started rocking.

“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault,” you muttered.

Sam looked over his shoulder to Dean for help, but the ruined look on his face suggested he wasn’t in a position to help. With a deep breath, Sam turned back to you and said, “What’s your fault, Y/N?”

You shook your head and brought your hands to your ears. “Mum was right. I provoked him. That’s why he always came into my room and hurt me. It was my fault.”

“Jesus,” Sam breathed.

Dean felt sick. He had to swallow the bile that rose up in his throat. He felt so ashamed, so deeply ashamed. There she was, the love of his life chanting over and over that it was her fault her father molested her, and Dean’s cum was smeared across the insides of her thighs.

He felt light headed and sick. Always sick. He stepped backwards away from the bathroom until the backs of his knees hit his bed and he collapsed on it. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared blankly at the ground as he thought over what happened. Sam’s murmured words of reassurance and your sobs became white noise.

Dean knew for a fact that you’d consented, but you’d jumped so quickly out of bed, that at some point during you had to have changed your mind. He remembered your fingers twisting in the sheets, at the time he’d thought you’d done it out of pleasure. But what if he’d been wrong? He remembered your body tensing. He remembered you spasming and tightening around him. What if that hadn’t been an orgasm, but your body trying to reject his?

Dean asked himself the most important question. The one that made him sick to his stomach. Did he just rape you?

****

“So, Y/N. You want to tell me why you’re here today?” The woman was beautiful. Gorgeous ebony skin, and an afro of hair that you just wanted to curl up in. She looked to be in her late twenties, but her eyes told a far older story.

Despite all this, you couldn’t conjure up one crude thought about getting her naked. You tried – really hard – but you just couldn’t get past the notepad in her hands and the Ph.D. on her wall that labelled her a psychologist.

“Really? That’s what we’re gonna go with?” you said. “I swear if you say ‘and how do you feel about that?’ you might just be the most cliché person I’ve ever met.”

The corners of her mouth tilted up and she wrote something down on her notepad. You craned your head, trying to see what it said. She noticed, tilted her head at you. “You have a lot of trust issues don’t you, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath. “Look, Doc. Can’t you just give me some pills or something? I’m sure I’ll be right as rain once I’m back on my meds.”

She smiled again, and her pen scrawled across the pad. You wanted to snap it in half. “I’m a psychologist, not a psychiatrist. I can’t prescribe you medication.”

“Then what am I even here for?”

She pressed her lips together and crossed one leg over the other. She watched you, and it felt like she could see everything you were thinking. “Your friends are awfully worried about you. Sam and Dean?” You swallowed and shifted in your seat. “Judging from what I’ve been told –”

“What you’ve been told?”

“Yes. Sam and Dean told me everything they knew about your childhood and everything that’s happened with you since they signed you out of the institute. The anger. Pelvic pains. Flashbacks. Trouble sleeping. The excessive guilt and self-loathing. Even what happened after your sexual relations with Dean – including the police station.”

You scoffed. They hadn’t told her everything. They probably even lied about a few things, but they told her enough truth. “Isn’t there something called patient confidentiality?”

“Technically, I haven’t broken that rule. Hearing all that information from them rather than you first hand isn’t strictly professional, but, when two FBI agents drop a troubled woman off on your door step with a story of child abuse and demand she is helped … well, you can’t say no to a badge.”

You watched her jaw tick, knew there was a deep-rooted issue there. You poked at it. “Sure you can. But you have to be white to get away with it.”

The corners of her lips tilted up again. “Glad to see not everyone’s blind.” You shrugged. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and put the notebook aside. “I can tell you don’t want to be here, Y/N. And to be honest, I can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. Not in one session anyway, and I have a feeling you won’t be back for a second one. So I’ll just tell you this, you’re suffering from PTSD, but I’m sure you already guessed that. The reason the symptoms are coming on so strongly now is because you hit a positive trigger.”

You frowned. “Positive trigger?”

“Yes. When a child is suffering abuse, they tend to dissociate themselves from what’s happening. It’s a coping mechanism, just like blaming yourself is a coping mechanism. Now, that dissociation can last right into adulthood. Some people don’t remember what happened to them, but they experience emotions in a very overwhelming manner. Others remember every detail of what happened to them but feel no emotion to it. They’re numb to the memories. I believe that’s what happened to you.”

You nodded and sat up straighter in your chair. “Yea. I mean, it sounds right. But what’s that got to do with positive triggering?”

She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “People can only hide from their emotions for so long, Y/N. Sometimes, when a survivor of child abuse feels safe or begins trusting friends or family members, they start to let their guard down. They begin believing that it’s okay to feel emotions again, and talk about what happened. They feel mentally secure enough to begin facing what happened to them and dealing with it. That’s called a positive trigger. It may feel like the end of the world, but I promise you, Y/N, this is a very good thing.”

You nodded again and scratched at the back of your head as you mulled over what she said. It made sense, your symptoms started showing up after you met Sam, and they only got worse the closer you got to the brothers. “Okay. So what do I do?”

She gave you a smile of relief, as though she’d expected you to be difficult. “Normally, I would get you to visit me once a week so we can start working through some of the issues that you’re having. But, like I said, I don’t think you’ll be back. I have a friend who’s a medical doctor in town. I can write up a letter for you and sign it, which should be enough for you to get a prescription for the medication you used to be on. It will help with your pelvic pains.”

“I thought those were psychological.”

“They are, but anti-depressants have been known to help with them, I think that’s why you never experienced them after you were admitted. The medication will also take the edge off the mood swings and the bursts of anger, but it’s important that you know they won’t fix the problem. You need to face what happened to you. You have to accept it. And you have to make peace with the fact that what happened to you was not your fault. It was completely out of your control.”

You stood up and held your hand out to her, clearing your throat to fight back the swell of tears that threatened to spill. “Thanks, Doc.”

She smiled and stood to shake your hand. “It was my pleasure, Y/N. It’s going to be hard. Really hard. You’re going to feel out of control, and sometimes it’ll feel like you’re not making any progress. But one day you’ll wake up and realise that it doesn’t hurt so bad anymore. Besides, you’re not alone. Any man who is willing to take the risk of getting a fake FBI badge to help his woman is definitely in love and sticking around for the long haul. And you’ve got two of them down stairs.”

She chuckled at your shocked expression. “I grew up in the Bronx. I know what a real badge looks like.”

“But … before … with the whole, not being able to say no?”

She smiled and leaned forward like she was sharing a secret. “I took a semester of drama for one of my electives.”

“I think I’m in love,” you said as she walked you to the door.

She snorted. “I’ll be sure to tell my wife that.”


	15. A Nightmare Of The Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean convinces Sam to go on a normal hunt until new information on Kevin pops up. In this part, you give Sam a second chance and tensions run high between the brothers, turning you into a tug rope between them when Sam confesses he wants to leave the hunter life for good.

Dean and Sam were making their way down an aisle of stalls. Sam stopped at every second one to sift through fruits and vegetables that looked far too organic for Dean’s taste. Tomatoes tasted good on burgers – not salads.

Dean was scrolling through a news site on his phone, telling Sam all about the new case he’d found. Two people found with their hearts ripped out of their chest six months apart in Minneapolis. Dean could feel the adrenaline surging through his body at the prospect of hunting down a monster. It was the same feeling he’d had the entire time he’d been in Purgatory. It was like a drug, and Dean couldn’t get enough of being high.

Every few minutes, Dean’s eyes would seek you out and watch as you strolled a few stalls ahead of them. Dean had to fight against his instincts to drag you back to his side like a damn cave man. Ever since you’d had that session with the psychologist you’d spent less time being close to Dean. You’d told him that it was just until the medication fully kicked in and you got over the shock of relapsing, but Dean had never been known for his patience.

Dean tore his eyes from you before he gave in and violated your boundaries. He looked at his brother, hoping to distract himself with the case again, and grew instantly angry. Sam wasn’t even looking at you. He hadn’t once even snuck a glance at you since you started walking ahead of them. It pissed Dean off when Sam seemed as though he didn’t care about you as much as Dean did.

Sam claimed to love you, but how could he not want to keep his eye on you as often as he could if that was the case? Things had seemed different before Purgatory, you were the centre of Sam’s world, but everything changed the moment you and Dean got back.

Dean thought back to the conversation he’d had with his brother in that motel about Amelia. Sam had told him he’d only gone to Amelia to try and hold on to you, but what if he’d been lying to soften the blow. What if he really had moved on that quickly? Dean had spent – what felt like – months, trying to convince you that Sam hadn’t tried to move on and forget you, but maybe he was wrong in doing that. Maybe you were right to be upset. Maybe you were right to think that Sam just didn’t love you.

Dean couldn’t understand what the hell was wrong with his brother. He looked at you again and tried to imagine himself just tossing you to the side and falling into bed with the first woman to come along. It made him sick. He tried to imagine doing the same thing again, but this time it was because you’d died. It physically hurt him.

He glared up at his brother, convinced Sam had been lying this entire time. Sam looked down at him and his eyebrows shot to his hairline in surprise. Dean shook his head in disgust and went back to watching you.

“What’s your problem?” Sam said.

“Nothing,” Dean growled.

Sam scoffed, not bothering to push the subject. “Right. Well, like I said, forget the Minneapolis case. We already have one. Kevin and the demon tablet need to be found, so heart guy takes a number.”

Dean frowned. “Uh, we just spent a week chasing our asses trying to lock Kevin down, okay? And look at us. We’re –” He stopped suddenly and looked around. They were walking down an aisle of vegetable stalls. How had this not registered to him before? “Where the hell are we?”

Sam looked at him as if he was a kid that had fallen behind one too many times in class. “Farmers’ market,” he said slowly, holding up the apple in his hand. When had he picked that up? Was he paying for all this crap? Because Dean refused to have a part in it. “Organic. I had a year off. I took the time to enjoy the good things.”

Dean’s confusion fizzled out and anger flared back up to take it’s place when he remembered exactly what Sam had been doing. “While avoiding doing what we actually do. Not to mention, cheating on Y/N.”

Dean felt a little happier when he saw the guilt in Sam’s face. “Wow, Dean, does it make you feel that much better every time you say it?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know, Sam. Have you realised how much of a dick you are yet? ‘Cause I’ll feel pretty good when you do.”

Sam pressed his lips together in anger and took a step closer to his brother, dropping his voice as he did so. “I know you’re still angry about me not hunting, but I thought we had talked about Amelia. I thought you understood why I did it.”

Dean scoffed. “Oh, I understood alright. Hell, I even believed you. Until you started acting like Y/N was just the next sidekick tagging along with us for a little while.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I mean it, Sam.” Dean pointed at you. “Go ahead, look at her.”

“What?”

“Look at her. For more than five seconds.”

Sam’s jaw ticked but he didn’t look at you. “You think that because I don’t look at her I’m not in love with her? Is that what this is?” Dean shrugged. Sam all but snarled in his face, “I can’t look at her because the guilt makes me physically sick, Dean. I know I screwed up. And I will regret what I did every day of my life. Y/N hates me for what I did, and every time I see her happy with you, the guilt just gets bigger. So no, I don’t look at her the way I used to. I don’t touch her or talk to her the way I used to, because every time I do I’m reminded of everything that I lost when I messed up.”

Dean licked at his bottom lip and shook his head. Once again, he was thrown into doubt. He couldn’t figure out how Sam felt about you. His actions said one thing, but then Sam would say another and it sounded so damn reasonable that Dean didn’t know what to think anymore. He did know one thing, though. You were hurting real bad because of Sam. And Sam hadn’t done a damn thing to fix it.

“You know, Y/N doesn’t hate you. But sometimes, I really wish she did,” Dean said. “Oh, and we’re going on that case. You don’t get a say. Not today.”

****

The talk with the detective following the case had been short and not so sweet. He hadn’t given you or the brother’s any new information apart from a surveillance video that showed a plus sized man – Paul Hayse – speeding past the victim on a jogging track in the woods. After that, Dean and the detective stopped playing nice, so the three of you left to go and see Paul.

Now here you were, leaning against the wall by the hall cringing at the green smoothie that Paul was blending. You really hoped he didn’t intend on drinking it.

“Sorry,” Paul said as he stopped blending and poured the concoction into a cup. “I kind of try to stick to a nutrition and workout schedule.” He held it out to Sam, who was sitting on a stool by the kitchen bench. “Do you want a hit?”

“I’m good. Thanks,” Sam said.

Paul went to offer it to you but whatever he saw in your face stopped him. You were guessing disgust is what he saw.

“So, Paul,” Sam said, “you passed a runner who was later killed. Did you speak with him at all?”

Paul nodded as he thought over his answer. “Yeah, I went over this with the cops. I-I–I didn’t know him. I had never spoken to him. I ran past him. I never saw him again. The end.”

He took a mouthful of his smoothie as a toilet flushed down the hall and Dean walked out, wiping his hands on his suit pants. Of course, he’d been snooping around the house not actually going to the toilet, but Paul didn’t need to know that.

“Oh,” Paul groaned as he grimaced at his smoothie. “It’s disgusting. It tastes like crap, but it keeps you young.”

“I’d much rather have wrinkles,” you muttered.

“Huh?” Paul said.

You smiled at him. “I said who would want wrinkles.” Paul chuckled.

“Thanks,” Dean said as he leaned his shoulder against the wall behind you and wrapped an arm across the front of your shoulders. “Too much fibre.”

Paul smiled. “No such thing.” He gestured at you and Dean. “I didn’t know agents could date each other in the bureau.”

“Well, it’s always exciting to go behind the bosses back.”

You elbowed Dean in the stomach. “He’s joking.”

Sam cleared his throat and you watched as he tried to relax his shoulders. “Now, Paul, we couldn’t help but notice that the jogger you outraced was a good deal younger than you.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “and less, uh…”

“Full-figured?” Paul rubbed his belly and chuckled. “You should’ve seen me before. Yeah, hugging a desk all day and watching TV all night, eating fried everything was killing me. I had a health scare about a year ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said.

“No, it changed my life. I mean, I started taking care of myself.”

“Now your body’s a temple, huh?” you said.

Paul smiled and lifted his cup to you in cheers. “Where I worship every day.” He took another mouthful of his smoothie and you grimaced.

Dean’s breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll worship your body like a temple.”

“Dean!” you laughed. Sam turned to look at the two of you. You pressed your lips together and tried to act professional, but Sam’s hard look meant that Dean probably wasn’t doing the same thing.

****

Sam sat beside his brother at a bench in a café. Dean was going through news reports on Sam’s laptop while Sam read the police reports again. You came sidling up behind them and slid a hand up Dean’s back and into his hair. Sam watched as you raked your nails along his brother’s scalp and played your fingers along his collar.

The guilt he’d told his brother about the day before settled in his chest as he remembered being in his brother’s position over a year ago. He could still be in that position if he’d just looked for you rather than try to replace you. He’d been an idiot to think that he could replace you. It’s why he’d taken the choice out of Amelia’s hands when she got the call about her husband.

“So, what’s the word?” you asked Dean. “Did you find anything poking around Paul’s house?”

Dean straightened in his seat and glanced up at you. He wrapped his arm around you and rubbed his hand along your ass and hip. Sam’s hand itched to do the same.

“The usual,” Dean said. “Condoms, hair gel. No hex bags, nothing satanic, nothing spooky.”

Sam scoffed. “So, he didn’t seem like a guy who would be voted most likely to disembowel?”

You smiled and looked at him, and the world seemed to freeze. For just a split second your smile had made everything feel like it had gone back to normal, but then it faded, and the two of you were stuck staring at each other. Sam had no idea what was going through your mind, but all he could think of was the millions of ways he wanted to beg for your forgiveness. The millions of times he’d kissed and touched you before and how he wanted all those moments back. He wanted you back.

He opened his mouth to say it. Be damned the consequences and the fact that you were in a café with Dean’s hand on your ass. He opened his mouth to tell you he loved you and he would do anything to get you back, but then the job got in the way. Just like it always did.

“Here’s another one,” Dean said. You blinked and the trance was broken. Sam took a deep breath as you looked down at Dean.

“Another murder?” you said, and even your voice had Sam remembering all the early mornings you woke him up with sweet whispers in his ear. Hunting with you before Purgatory had been the only time he’d wanted a hunter’s life.

“And a do-it-yourself heart bypass,” Dean said. “Two days after this one.”

“What part of Minneapolis?”

“The Iowa part. Ames.”

That got Sam’s attention. “Paul was here being questioned. There’s no way that could have been him.” He leaned over and read the headline on the laptop – Ames Police Officer Arrested in Murder. As he did so, your scent washed over him. It was like a punch in the gut and he went to put an arm around your shoulders to steady himself before remembering he didn’t have that right anymore. Dean continued on, not having noticed anything, but you glanced at him.

“This guy was a cop,” Dean said. “This is exactly what happened six months ago. Minneapolis, then Ames. Guess you missed that one.”

“Dean,” you warned.

Dean rolled his eyes and shut the laptop. “Right. Well, I gotta go hit the head. I’ll see you guys back at the car.”

Sam watched as Dean kissed you before leaving. It was such a normal, everyday thing, and yet Sam would give anything to be able to do it.

“Thanks,” Sam said once his brother was out of earshot.

You shrugged and slid onto Dean’s stool. “I didn’t do it for you. I’m just … I’m so sick of all the fighting.”

Hope lit up like a fire in Sam’s stomach. He shifted closer to you. “So am I.” Your knees pressed against each other, and when you didn’t pull away the fire grew. “Y/N, please. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that there was never anything between us before Purgatory.”

“You didn’t have a problem doing that when I was gone,” you said. Sam flinched.

“I never forgot you. I never forgot us. I couldn’t bring myself to accept your death so I went to a woman that I thought could give me even a fraction of what I found with you.”

You nodded and looked at him. “So … what you’re saying is you were just in love with the idea of me.”

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. He’d rehearsed this a million times in his head, but when it came down to it, he couldn’t pull it off the way he’d hoped. “No. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that I missed you. I’m saying that I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t eat so I tried to find you in another woman.” You didn’t look convinced, so, in desperation, Sam griped the edge of your chair and pulled you closer to him. You gave him a shocked look but he didn’t care. He was on his last leg now. All he wanted to do was make things right with you.

He cupped your face his hands. “Please, Y/N. Please. I’ll do anything. I just … I need you.” His words took him back to that night in the motel after you’d come back. He’d begged you in the bathroom that night, and all but got down on his knees to do it. It hadn’t worked then, he didn’t think it would work now, but he had to try.

You closed your eyes and he saw your lip quiver. It broke his heart. He didn’t want to keep hurting you like this. But what else was he meant to do? Finally, you opened your eyes and looked at him as you pulled his hands away from your face.

“We’re in public, Sam. Let’s not do this here.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew that there wouldn’t be another time to have that talk. For a moment, he thought that you would never forgive him – that he was doomed to watch you and Dean from the sidelines forever – but your next words kindled that fire of hope in his stomach again. “We can’t go back to being what we were, Sam. But maybe … maybe we can start again.”

You slid out of your seat and left the café before Sam got a chance to gush and make a fool of himself, or worse, change your mind. You’d just given him a chance to fix things. To start over and do it right. He swore to himself that if he made the same mistakes again, not even he would want you to take him back, because you deserved better than that.

****

A police officer at Ames police station had filled you, Sam and Dean in on Arthur’s case – he’d torn the heart out of a pizza delivery guy (though a court appointment meant he never killed anyone in Minneapolis – before setting up an interview room for the three of you to talk to him. He had warned you that it was pointless, but you didn’t think it was because Arthur had taken to speaking an entirely different language.

Now you were holding a tape recorder while Sam and Dean tried to interview him, wondering why because the guy wasn’t speaking English anymore. He just kept rocking in his chair and repeating the same gibberish phrase.

“So, you getting his statement?” Dean asked. He was leaning against the barred door behind where you and Sam sat next to each other.

“Uh, yeah,” you said. “Kind of.” You swallowed as Arthur began clenching and unclenching his hands. “Probably not.”

“It’s too bad I dropped out of Lunatic 101.”

“Whatever it is,” Sam said, “it sounds like he’s repeating it.”

You jerked your chin at his face. “Look at his eyes.” You didn’t know why it had taken you this long to realise he had one blue eye and one brown eye. You figured crazy people would do that to you. “Hey, Arthur… did you do this alone?”

When you got no answer, Sam leaned forward and tried. “Arthur, did some invisible voice tell you you had to kill?”

Arthur banged his hands on the table and shouted his gibberish phrase. You jumped and Sam’s arm shot out and landed on your chest to push you further back into your seat away from him. You shot him a look and he pulled his arm away guiltily.

“I can’t believe you just mum-seat-belted me,” you said.

“Sorry.”

Dean came forward and leaned his hands on the back of your chair. “Oh, now you’ve pissed him off.” Arthur went back to muttering under his breath again. “Hey, Art. Can I call you Art? Listen, Y/N here is gonna sprinkle your arm with holy water,” – he pulled his flask out of his coat jacket and passed it to you – “and it’s gonna steam and burn if you’re possessed by a demon.”

You glared up at him. “Really? I’ve got to piss off the psycho?”

“Hey, you were in a psychiatric ward. He needs to go to a psychiatric ward. You’ve already got an established bond.” You didn’t move. “Go on. He’s a mushroom.”

You sighed and handed Sam the tape recorder before taking the lid off the flask and sprinkling some holy water on Arthur’s arm. Nothing happened.

“Okay, not possessed,” Sam said.

“Arthur, you want to tell us why you did this?” Dean said. Arthur repeated his phrase. “Okay.”

****

Sam sat on the edge of his motel bed while you lounged back in Dean’s. You were just in one of his shirts – having shed your itchy FBI clothes the minute you got in the room – while the boys were still in their white dress shirts and pants.

Sam pressed play on his recorder and the three of you listened to Arthur’s ramblings while Dean rifled through his duffel bag for pyjamas. “So, what do you think?” Sam said when he pressed paused.

You contemplated for a moment before saying – in all seriousness, “Personally, I prefer the Keith Richards version.”

Dean smiled and threw the pair of pants he’d pulled out of his bag at your face. You laughed and threw them back.

Sam scoffed. “Can you actually understand any of the words?”

“If they are words,” Dean said. “Sounds like babble to me.” He dug around in his pockets suddenly with an excited look. “Wait a second.”

“What?”

Dean pulled his phone out and sat on the edge of his bed across from Sam. “I bought a translation app.”

“You bought an app.”

“Aw,” you said with a smile as you climbed to your knees and hugged Dean from behind. “Our little man’s all grown up, Sammy.”

Dean grumbled at you and Sam laughed as you winked at him. “Here,” Dean growled as he pushed his phone towards Sam. “Just play it and shut up.”

Sam did as he was told and played the recording through twice before stopping it again.

“I guess babble wins,” you said as you looked down at Dean’s phone when he pulled it back. “Language unknown.”

Sam’s phone rang and he answered it with an ‘Agent Sambora’ greeting. Dean threw his own phone over his shoulder and you laughed as he spun around and tackled you to the bed.

“Bed time,” he said right before locking his lips with yours. He ran his hand up your thigh and hip until he had his shirt bunched around your waist. Then he tucked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugged at them playfully. You broke the kiss and laughed.

“Dean.”

He smiled and nuzzled your neck. “What? Sammy’s on the phone. He won’t mind.”

You gave him a mock punch on the shoulder and he rolled back enough to look at you, pulling your thigh up against his waist as he did so. “You’re an ass,” you said with your own smile.

“A devilishly handsome ass.”

“You wish,” you murmured.

His smile softened as he brushed your hair back behind your ear. “How are you doing?” he said.

You nodded. “Okay. I mean, yesterday, at the farmer’s market I wasn’t doing too good. I just needed space. But today I’ve been great so far. I think having a case and doing our usual routine helps a lot, though.”

Dean chuckled. “What’s that say about you that you need to kill monsters to feel better?”

You punched him in the shoulder again and leaned in to give him a quick kiss but Sam’s shocked voice had you rolling over to face him instead.

****

Turned out that the phone call Sam had gotten was from the local hospital. Arthur had somehow managed to cut his own eye out. You’d gone in the following morning and some digging around with the nurse showed that he’d pulled off part of the bed frame to do it and, oddly enough, it had been the brown eye he’d cut out. Which turned out to be a transplant he’d had surgically put in almost a year to the day.

Once the three of you were finished at the hospital, you’d all driven back to the motel and gotten changed back into casual clothes. Of course, your casual dress lately had consisted of you just wearing one of Dean’s flannels – although you threw on a pair of jeans under it if you went out or it got too cold – but mostly Dean kept you in just underwear and his flannel whenever he could.

He’d gone out to get lunch not long after the three of you got back, however. So you were lounged back in Sam’s bed next to him going through Paul Hayes’s medical history. Although, neither of you could really focus on what was on Sam’s laptop.

This was the closest the two of you had been since you’d gotten back. And it didn’t make it any easier knowing that you’d made a promise to try and forgive him.

“I’m not the only one feeling this ridiculous amount of tension, right?” you finally said as you looked up at him.

Sam breathed out a sigh of relief, closed his laptop and put it on the bedside table. “I’m glad you said it. It’s not … awkward, though. Right?”

You shook your head. “No … no, it’s just … I don’t know.”

You looked up at him and he looked down at you, and you suddenly realised what it was. The tension was sexual and emotional. Neither of you had actually taken the time to realise that you were finally seeing each other again. You’d been angry with him almost the moment you’d gotten out of Purgatory, and as a result, you’d never actually said ‘hello’ to each other. You’d never taken the chance to just be happy that you could finally see each other after so long.

Neither of you had to say a word to know that you both understood. You were at each other’s mouths in an instant. Sam growled as he dragged you into his lap and pulled Dean’s shirt open, popping the buttons. His teeth sank into your neck and you groaned as his fingers dug into your ass and forced you to grind down on his crotch. His jeans and your thin panties were all that separated the two of you.

“Sam, I said we should start over. I don’t think we started out like this.”

“I know,” he growled, moving his lips back to yours. You pulled at his hair and bit his lip but didn’t stop grinding into him. He groaned into your mouth, but just as his hands flew to his belt buckle, the motel door opened and Dean cleared his throat.

You pulled back from Sam and gave Dean a guilty look. You knew that Sam wasn’t off limits, but you couldn’t stop the automatic guilt. Even though the three of you had talked about all this before, that was the closest it had come to actually being a thing.

“It’s about damn time,” Dean said as he shut the door behind him and put the takeout bags he was holding onto the table at the other side of the room.

“You’re not mad?” Sam said, clearly feeling the same confused guilt as you.

Dean looked at him as if he was crazy. “Of course not. Haven’t we talked about this, like, a bajillion times?”

“I guess it just feels different actually doing it,” you said. You looked at Sam and he gave you a soft smile as he ran his hands up your back.

“Just, don’t have sex while I’m in the room, or if you know I’ll come back before you finish. Naked Sam is not something I wanna see. Have some class,” Dean said. You scoffed and gave him a hard look. “Shut up,” he growled, knowing that you were thinking about the time he fucked you while Sam slept in the next bed over. “Anyway – ” He stopped suddenly when a crunch sounded from under his boot. He looked down. “Is that my – are all of these buttons?” He looked up at Sam. “Did you ruin my shirt? You know what? I don’t even want to know. Just … I don’t know. Did you find anything more on the case? Did you even manage to look before you were ripping my shirt apart?”

Sam cleared his throat and you slid out of his lap, not bothering to cover yourself. They’d both seen you naked, and you were still in underwear at least, so what was the point?

“Yeah, actually,” Sam said as he reached for his laptop and opened it back up. “Arthur Swenson had an eye transplant a year ago, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I remembered that Paul Hayes was talking about a health scare he had a year ago that changed his life, so I pulled up his medical records from Minneapolis.” Dean gave Sam a long look and Sam shrugged. “You want me on board, I’m on board. Anyways, you want to guess who else, other than Arthur Swenson, had a transplant in the last year?”

“Paul Hayes?”

“I gave it away, didn’t I?”

Dean sat on the table, coffee in hand. “Okay, so we’ve got two suspects in two identical murders in two different cities that both had organ transplants a year ago.”

“Yep,” you said as you climbed to your knees. You were filled with pride when Dean automatically took a sweep of your body and smiled to himself. “Also …”

“I love when there’s an ‘also’. Also, you should just not wear clothes anymore,” he said.

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t hold back the smile that curled your lips. “I got to thinking about all that stuff Arthur Swenson was talking about. Maybe your translation app called it ‘language unknown’ because it’s a dead language, like ancient Greek or Manx.”

“Manx?”

“So I e-mailed an audio file of Arthur’s mumbling to Dr Morrison.”

“Who?”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “You know. That anthropology professor? Sam told me he helped you guys out on some Amazon case a while back? Also, you had a kid and didn’t tell me?”

Dean choked on his coffee. “Uh … uh, no … well, yeah but she – uh.”

Sam laughed and you smiled. “Still love an ‘also’?”

“You’re evil,” he growled. “Now let’s just get our asses on the road.”

“Headed to …?” Sam said.

“Well, if we are in a repeat of a cycle from six months ago, then, after the murders in Minneapolis and in Ames, the next heart attack was in Boulder, Colorado.”

****

Night had fallen and you were passed out in the back seat of the Impala while Sam and Dean sat in the front.

“All right,” Dean said with a small smile, “case is coming together. Things are coming together, man. You and me. You and Y/N. It is all good.” Sam sat silent and Dean looked at him. “Hey.”

“What?” Sam said.

“What are you thinking about, organic tomatoes?”

Sam shook his head. “Uh, I’m not thinking about anything.” Which wasn’t entirely a lie. He was thinking about you, and his future with you, but he thought about that so much that he may as well not call it thinking at all. It was just background music in his head.

Dean nodded and looked back at the road. “I don’t know about you, but this last year has given me a new perspective.”

“I hear you. Believe me.” Although, Sam didn’t feel like his perspective quite matched up with Dean’s. Sam regretted being with Amelia, but he didn’t regret the lessons he’d learned. One of those being that he didn’t want just a little bit of the domestic life here and there. He wanted the whole package: white picket fence, the dog, you curling up next to him every night and waking him with a smile every morning. He just wasn’t sure where Dean fit into all of that.

“I know where I’m at my best,” Dean said, “and that is right here, driving down crazy street next to you and my girl.”

“Makes sense,” Sam said. For Dean anyway.

“Yes, it does.”

“Or…” Sam swallowed and prepared himself to take the risk. Normally he wouldn’t have to think twice, but he had you now, and every decision he made meant that he had to think about how it would affect you. “Maybe you don’t need me. I mean, maybe you’re at your best hacking and slicing your way through all the world’s crap alone, not having to explain yourself to anybody.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, that makes sense, seeing as I have so many other brothers I can talk to about this stuff.”

Sam sighed. “Look, I’m not saying I’m bailing on you. I’m just saying make room for the possibility that we want different things. I mean, I want my time to count for something.”

Dean jerked his thumb over his shoulder at where you slept. “And what about Y/N, huh? Where does she fit into your grand plan?”

Sam licked his lips. “I don’t have any plans, Dean. And it’s because of her that I don’t. But I’m trying to think of my future here. As much as you may want it, I don’t think I want to be a hunter my whole life. And I’m not sure that Y/N wants that either.” Dean’s jaw ticked. “Look, obviously it’s up to her to do whatever she feels is best for her, but if I do decide to a plan a future outside of hunting, I’ll be asking her to plan it with me. I want her there, Dean.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by the ringing of his phone. He answered with a gruff voice. “Yeah? Hey, Dr. Kashi. Okay. Thank you. Uh, could you run one more name for me? Yeah – Hayes, Paul. Uh-huh. And the donor? Seriously?” He gave Sam a surprised look. “How many others? Did anybody from Boulder, Colorado, receive any of those organs? Okay, thank you.”

Dean hung up and glanced at Sam again. “Well, this is gonna singe your axons.” Sam frowned at him, not even sure that his brother actually knew what axons were. “She says that both Paul Hayes’ kidney and Arthur Swenson’s new eye came from – you ready for this? – Brick Holmes.”

“Did someone say Brick Holmes?” you grumbled as you sat up and rubbed at your eyes. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around Sam’s shoulders as you leaned your head against him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean said. “Sleep well?” He reached out and rubbed a thumb along your jaw before returning his hand to the steering wheel. And, once again, Sam wondered how he’d be able to have a domestic life when the woman he wanted to spend it with would also be dating his brother the hunter.

You nodded and said, “Were you talking about the all-pro quarterback? That Brick Holmes?”

“Yeah, the guy played at the top of his game for like a million years, didn’t he?”

You nodded again. “Didn’t he die in a car crash last year?”

Sam rubbed a hand along your arm. “Nose-dived off a bridge or something. He must’ve signed a donor card.” He looked at Dean. “Did the doc say how many organs he donated?”

Dean looked at his little brother. “Including our two suspects? Eight.”

“Eight?”

“Eight.”

“Okay,” you said as you pulled away from Sam and leaned against the bench seat between them. “So, one of them is in Boulder, right?”

Dean shook his head. “You would be wrong. That’s the bad news. Good news is, Brick lived just outside of Boulder.”

“Well, Brick’s dead.”

“Yeah, but he’s all we got, so we are going to Boulder.”

****

The Holmes residence was beautiful and grand but you had expected as much of a star athlete. When Mrs Holmes had welcomed you into her home and told you to make yourself comfortable, you wasted no time in sinking into one of the plush armchairs across from her. Sam got the one next to you and you knew Dean was secretly pissed he didn’t get one.

“I just want to say how sorry we are for your loss, Mrs. Holmes,” Dean said. He rested his hand on the back of your chair, secretly playing his fingers through your hair when no one was looking.

Mrs Holmes said her thanks and you couldn’t hold in your excitement anymore. “You know, Brick Holmes was my idol back in high school. Amazing career. Uh, 18 pro seasons, 7 division championships, 4 Super Bowls – never slowed down a day.” Sneaking into the teachers’ lounge and watching his games had been the highlight of your childhood. Or, at the very least, the only good part.

Dean tugged lightly on the lock of hair he was playing with, and you knew that if you looked up at him he’d be giving you a look that said you were a complete dork. Sam only gave you a look of admiration before turning his attention back to Mrs Holmes.

She smiled at you. “Brick lived for competition and athletic perfection. I don’t think it occurred to his fans that he was human, like the rest of us.”

“Do you know your son was an organ donor?” Sam said.

She shifted in her seat and swallowed. You had a feeling that everything she was going to tell you guys would be either a lie or only partial truth. She wasn’t very good at hiding her guilt.

“Does that make this a matter for the FBI?” she said.

Dean cleared his throat to get her attention and smiled. “Like we explained earlier, we’re mostly here, uh, to dot some I’s on a different matter.”

She nodded and pulled herself back together. “There was a public-awareness thing a few years ago. A lot of star athletes signed on. I’m sure Brick didn’t think twice about it since he never thought he was going to die.”

Dean chuckled. “A lot of jocks are like that, I guess.”

You leaned forward in your chair and gave her as friendly a face as you could. What you were about to say was probably going to piss her off; it wouldn’t do any good for her to think you were being intentionally rude. “You know, I-I can’t help wonder what happened that night on that bridge. There was light traffic, no alcohol involved, no skid marks. Big-time athlete, reflexes like a cat, how is it that he just drives off the side of a bridge?”

She gave you a hard look and you couldn’t help but think that there was a lot more fire in that frail body of hers than she let on. “When things happen that aren’t supposed to happen, they’re called accidents, I believe.”

You let the smile fade from your lips and you leaned back in the chair. You’d taken a long shot and lost your rapport with her because of it.

“So,” Sam said, “everybody knows about Brick’s football career, obviously, but no one knows much about his personal life. Was he ever married?”

She wasn’t smiling anymore but she answered pleasantly enough. “Just to the game. He gave it everything he had. It’s a difficult life.”

“Did you notice any changes in Brick before he died?” Dean said. “You know, anyone, anything new in his life?”

“No, no. I don’t think so.”

“So, no new interests? Fly fishing, stamp collecting, the occult?” You had to rub a hand over your mouth to hide your smile. You were guessing that Mrs Holmes’ indignant look meant Dean had lost his rapport too. Sammy was about your only hope now.

“The occult?”

“As a ‘for instance’,” Dean said.

Mrs Holmes scoffed. “No. Everything was just as it had been. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid my time is up.” She stood up and you and Sam followed. “The university is naming a new athletic building after Brick. I can’t be late.”

“Of course,” Sam said. “Just one more question.”

“There is always one more question in life, isn’t there? That’s what I find.” She headed towards the front door without another word and held it open for the three of you.

Once the door was shut behind you again Sam said, “Oh, she didn’t want to say much, did she?”

You smiled. “Well, Dean did accuse her son of being in the occult.”

Sam chuckled and slipped a hand onto the nape of your neck as the three of you walked towards the Impala. You shivered. Delighted that he’d so easily fallen back into the old routine of affection. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to take him back after all.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean growled as he stared down at his phone. You ran a hand down his back as you asked him what was wrong. “There it is. It happened.”

“Come on,” Sam said, “don’t tell me someone had their heart ripped out here in Boulder.”

“All right, then I won’t tell you.” Without another word, much like Mrs Holmes, Dean headed for the driver’s side of the Impala, leaving Sam speechless.

****

The three of you were back in the motel. You were glad to be out of your FBI suit and back into one of the boys flannels. By the length, you were guessing it was Sam’s. Dean was sitting at the table with the laptop while Sam lounged back against the headboard of his bed to go back through some files. You sat cross-legged between his legs with your mobile wedged between your shoulder and ear while you scribbled notes down on a pad.

“Okay, Professor Morrison, that’s everything. The FBI thanks you,” you said.

“Excellent. I’m so glad I could help. Again. Maybe you should consider … well, I wouldn’t want to cause any bother but – ”

“Yes, Professor. We’ll look into adding you as a technical advisor,” you said with a roll of your eyes. You’d hoped that when you ignored his email about it he would have dropped the subject. The dude was persistent.

“Oh, fantastic! And I trust the medical benefits are worth it, of course.”

Jesus, the guy really was trying to squeeze everything out of you. If you were an actual agent, you might have been pissed. “Yeah, it – it comes with a medical plan. Bye, bye now.” You hung up before he could ask about compensation.

“He come through?” Sam chuckled.

“Yup,” you bounced out of bed and headed over to the mini fridge. You bent over to reach the left over chicken salad on the bottom shelf. Suddenly you felt a pair of warm hands sliding under the flannel and onto your hips. You straightened with the salad as the hands pulled you back until your ass pressed against a jean covered crotch.

As you looked up at Sam he dropped a kiss to your temple before pulling the salad from your hands without so much as a ‘thanks’ before grabbing a fork and digging into it. You glared at him (earning a wink in return) and went over to sit across from Dean instead.

“Turns out,” you said, “that crap Arthur Swenson was babbling is a dead language – ancient Mayan.”

“Doesn’t get much deader than that,” Dean mumbled.

“You get a translation?” Sam asked.

“The divine god Cacao is born,” you said.

Dean frowned at you. “Cacao?”

“Cacao. Yeah, the Mayan God of maize.” Dean gave you a blank look. “Corn, the big crop? Anyway, Cacao was the most powerful god because maize was the most important thing to the Mayans. Well, that and torturing and killing everyone in sight.”

“So, this is what we’re looking for, a thousand-year-old culture’s god of corn?”

You shrugged. “I guess.”

“Well, whatever it is, we better cap it quick, or somebody in Phoenix is next up to get their heart yanked.”

Sam put aside his salad and came over to rest his hands on your shoulders as he stood behind you. “Someone in Phoenix got a piece of Brick?” he said.

“Yeah, I got a name – Jimmy Tong. Just e-mailed the cops. They haven’t seen the guy in days. Uh, oh, got another e-mail here, too. This one is for you, Sam. From a university. Answering questions about admissions.”

You stiffened under Sam’s hands at the sudden change in topic. Dean was smiling up at his brother, but it was the kind of smile that came before a fight.

“Just something I’m looking into,” Sam said. “An option.”

“You’re seriously talking about hanging it up?”

Sam sighed, sounding like he and Dean had had this conversation a million times before. “I’m not talking about anything, Dean. I’m just looking at options.” When Dean sat there staring at him, Sam went back to talking about the case. “So, what, should we just go to Phoenix and chase our tails until this guy shows his face?”

“No. Uh, Brick Holmes is the way into this,” Dean said as he stood up and started towards the bathroom. “Eleanor Holmes was doing her damndest not to tell us a thing. Nice job on changing the subject, though.”

Sam sighed again when the bathroom door closed. He moved around the table and sat in Dean’s seat to look at you. “So,” he said. “I’m gonna take a wild guess a say that you’re unhappy about this.”

You frowned. “Why would I be?”

He straightened and seemed stuck for words for a moment before he said, “Well, I-I don’t know. I mean, Dean’s pretty pissed.”

“I’m not your brother, Sam.”

He nodded. “Right. Okay. Well, do you want to talk about it? I mean, the last thing I want is to go back to what we were when we’ve just started to fix things.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I-I’m not mad. I’m happy for you, actually. I mean, you always seemed so happy when you talked about your years at Stamford. I’ll support you if you decide to go.”

“But?”

You sighed. “But … how is it going to work? I can’t be torn between you and Dean. I just can’t. I’m not some toy that the two of you can fight over.” You held your hand up when he tried to speak. “And I know you’ll insist that it won’t go down like that, but it will. I know you two.”

He reached across the table and squeezed your hands in his. “You’re right. It will turn out like that.”

You gave him a small smile. “I’m right? Really? You can admit that?”

He laughed. “I’m not my brother, either. Look, Going back to university and getting out of this life was something that I considered. Especially after what happened to us. I thought that maybe … maybe you wouldn’t want me around anymore. Maybe it would have done us both good if we just parted ways for a while.” It was his turn to hold up his hand when you tried to speak. “But now that you wanna try again. I’m not sure what I want to do about it. That’s why I haven’t made a decision.”

“You can’t make all your life decisions based on what I’m doing with mine, Sam. Like I said, I will support you and love you no matter what decision you make. But you have to make a decision. And you have to make it soon.”

Sam had never looked more torn.

****

It was night time when the three of you broke into the Holmes residence. Mrs Holmes was out at the naming ceremony and wouldn’t be back until at least 10:30. You’d all headed straight up the stairs to Brick’s master bedroom (what better place for a guy to hide all his freaky deeky stuff?). The minute you’d entered you’d grinned and jumped straight onto his bed, bouncing on your knees.

“Really?” Dean said as Sam gave you the ultimate bitch face.

“What? I wanted to know how comfortably rich people sleep. And just for the record, they sleep on a bed of clouds.”

Sam chuckled and went into one of the walk-in-closets. Dean rolled his eyes at you and motioned for you to get off the bed. “Come on, Cher. Off.”

You pouted and shuffled towards where he stood at the end of the bed. “Come on, Dean. You don’t want to know how comfortably the rich people do it?” You smiled and ran a finger down his chest and stomach, just glancing over his crotch before you pulled it back.

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “I swear the Devil himself made you.”

You laughed and threw yourself back on the bed, bouncing as you landed on your back. Dean shook his head with a huff and went into the second walk-in-closet. After a moment of rifling through clothes, Dean called out, “Brick’s closet. Looks like the stuff hasn’t been touched in a year. Man, what this stuff would go for on eBay.”

You rolled your eyes and got to your knees again to lean against one of the bedposts. Dean came out with a grin holding a bottle of peroxide. “Hey, sweetheart, would it totally crush you to know that your boy Brick wasn’t a natural blond?”

“Oh the horror,” you said with a wry smile as you got off the bed and went into the closet that Sam was in. You frowned as you looked at the clothes. “This is weird.” They were all female clothes, but they weren’t something you would see a young woman walking around in.

“What do you guys got?” Dean said.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, looking just as bemused as you. “Is this Eleanor’s closet?”

“Why would his mother’s closet be in here?” Dean said. “Are you sure?”

You pulled a jacket and scarf from the rack. Mrs Holmes’ had been wearing the same thing earlier in the day when you’d spoken with her. You stepped outside the closet and showed Dean. “This is what she was wearing today when we talked to her.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe she moved into Brick’s room after he died.” He looked at the bed. “Or…”

You grimaced. “You mean to tell me I was just rolling around in the incest bed? Kinky.”

“God,” Sam groaned. “You’re as bad as Dean. Thanks, guys. Now that image is permanently etched into my retinas.”

You followed Sam back into the closet and went through Mrs Holmes stuff until Dean called out for the two of you. He’d managed to find a secret room hidden behind Brick’s clothes. You and Sam followed him into the room and you felt your face light up at the sight of sports trophies and memorabilia.

“Wow,” you said as you pushed past Dean. “I knew he’d have something like this in his house.”

“This is a lot of hardware,” Dean said. “Okay, the football trophies I get, but there’s a lot of other stuff here – I mean, baseball, boxing, race-car driving.”

“He was a fan,” Sam said. “Any kind of athlete – he respected them. I mean, look at all the old stuff he’s got – a cricket mallet, golf clubs, a Kendo sword, archery equipment.” You looked at Sam and the two of you shared a smile.

“Hey, look at this,” Dean said. You watched as he pulled a box from inside a draw and placed it on the table in the middle of the room. He opened it up and pulled out one of the many letters hidden inside.

“They’re all the same,” you said as you pulled a couple out and glanced at them. “They’re all addressed to Betsy. Who’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “Girlfriend? Eleanor didn’t mention a Betsy.” He sifted through the letters until he found one that interested him. “This one looks old. Uh, ‘Dearest Betsy, third day of training camp. Roadwork improving. Working on my left jab. They say this kid Sugar Ray is gonna be tough’.”

“Sugar Ray?” you said. “As in Robinson? Didn’t he box in, like, the '40s? Is it signed the same?”

“Yeah. ‘Love, me’.”

“Here,” Dean said. “’Dearest Betsy, on the road again. So hard to be away from you, honey. Will give the Red Sox hell and get back to you’.”

There were hundreds of letters in the box, some of them going back decades. Many of them talking about the biggest milestones in sports history, as though whoever had written them had been a part of all of them.

“Guys,” you said. “This one looks recent.” You picked up a letter, the paper a crisp white compared to the yellow tinge of the others. “’Dearest Betsy… so tired of it all’.”

****

You were sitting at the table back in the motel with Sam’s laptop. Sam and Dean were sitting around one of the beds going through files and papers, trying to find some sort of answer.

“Hey, guys. I pulled up the names on those trophies. Check it out,” you said. The boys pulled their chairs up to sit on either side of you. “Okay, Brick Holmes – football player.” You brought up Brick’s photo on the screen. “Charlie Karnes – race-car driver.” You brought up his photo. “Davey Samuelson – baseball player – and Kelly Duran – boxer.” You brought up their photos next. “Four different guys, right?”

“Okay,” Dean said.

“Check this out.” You arranged all the photos until they sat side by side on the screen. “Same dark eyes, same cheekbones, nose, mouth.”

“Wait,” Sam said, “are you saying that these four guys who all look to be in their mid-20’s and go back 70 years could be the same guy?”

You nodded.

Dean scoffed. “Wow. For a 95-year-old, Brick Holmes could take a hit.”

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, the laptop screen was giving them hell. You swapped seats with Sam and sat by the bed covered in papers, going through them to find some lore on the Mayan’s. Arthur had to have been spouting that phrase for a reason.

“So, if all those athletes were the same guy,” Sam said, “how’d he pull it off? Appear, then go away and come back with a new look?”

Dean joined you by the bed. “Cacao, the, uh, the – the maize God – was Mayan, right?” He picked up one of the papers and started reading through it.

“Yeah.”

“The Maya were all about war and torture and conquest… and sports.” Sam looked at his brother. “It says here, ‘Their athletes were treated like kings’. The Mayan jocks made sacrifices to Cacao by – ready for this? – killing a victim, pulling out his heart, and eating it.” Dean put the paper to the side and shrugged. “They believed the rituals gave them super-charged power over their opponents.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t stay young forever,” you said. “So, what? Maybe Brick just made some kind of deal with this Cacao?”

“Well, we’ve seen it before – people making deals with demons, gods. I mean, maybe he stayed young and strong so long as the sacrifices kept coming. Remember all that antique sports equipment he had? This guy could go back to the Mayan days.”

“Wow,” Sam scoffed as he stood from his seat and paced to the middle of the room. “So, one of the greatest QBs to ever play the game was over 900 years old.”

“Well, that explains Brick, but what about the mooks carrying his spare parts?”

“Maybe the spell went along for the ride and infected the people who got his organs,” you said. “Remember how Paul Hayes said he had a health scare that changed his life? I mean, maybe the spell could compel him to keep carrying out the ritual.”

“Sort of like getting bit by a werewolf. I mean, once you’re infected, you do what you got to do, especially if you like the results.”

“Right, except old Arthur, the dedicated cop, couldn’t handle it and went nuts.” You sighed. “Brick Holmes, a heart eater. Who knew?”

Dean patted your leg. “Yeah, sorry, sweetheart. The mighty – they fall hard, huh?”

Sam pressed his lips together and went back to the laptop. After a moment he scoffed. “Well, at least he wasn’t sleeping with his mother.”

Dean frowned. “Yeah, good, Sam. Find the silver lining.”

“No, seriously. Look.” You and Dean moved back to the laptop and looked over Sam’s shoulders. He had an old photo up on the screen. It was of Kelly Duran – Brick – with boxing gloves on standing next to a blonde woman. The title beneath it said, ‘Fighter Kelly Duran is congratulated on a second-round knockout by wife Betsy’. You imagined the wife a little older and knew immediately who it was.

****

Mrs Holmes answered the door on the second ring of the doorbell. She didn’t seem too happy that you’d discovered she was ‘Dearest Betsy’ but she let the three of you in all the same. Dean beat you to the seat this time, so you perched on the arm of Sam’s to get him back.

“Look, Eleanor,” Sam said, “innocent people are dying.” Mrs Holmes sighed and sat down on the sofa across from you. “And they’re gonna continue to die until we stop it.”

“Did you know about the murders over the past year?” you said.

“No. I didn’t. I swear. I thought when – when Brick died, it would be over,” she said. She didn’t seem as distraught as you’d expected her to be. But you figured that after spending as long as she did with brick, she would have seen it all before.

“Help us. Betsy,” Dean said, “this is not what you want Brick’s legacy to be.”

Mrs Holmes pressed her lips together and contemplated his request before answering. “His Mayan name was Inyo.” Dean and Sam shared a look. They were finally getting closer to ending it all. “He was a proud young athlete nearly 1,000 years ago. He lived for sport and never wanted his days in the sun to end. So he arranged a bargain with the god Cacao through a high priest.”

“Stay young forever,” you said.

Mrs Holmes nodded. “As long as the sacrifices continued, twice a year – once for the planting, once for harvest.”

“When did you find out about this?” Sam said.

“Not until I began to age and – and Brick – Kelly, as he was when I met him – did not. But by that time, Brick himself had changed… inside. He wasn’t just the warrior whose only reason for living was combat. He – we were deeply, deeply in love. So in love, I’m ashamed to say, that when I found out that – how my husband stayed young and strong, I chose to ignore it.”

You wanted to be mad at her. She’d known her husband was killing innocent people and yet she did nothing when she could have done everything. Then you thought about what lengths you would go to for Sam and Dean. When you realised you’d do the same, your anger dissolved into sympathy.

“You and Brick had to go underground from time to time to hide your secret, right?” you said.

“Every ten years or so, he would, uh, re-emerge with a new look, a new name. And me, I was the wife, and I was the woman in hiding, and then, when I got into my forties, I became Brick’s mother. Eleanor.” She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “I am so tired. You can’t imagine the burden of it all. I think even Brick was through. He could see the end of my days were at hand, and… he had lived centuries all alone, but I don’t think he could bear the thought of life without me. That’s why he drove off that bridge.” She looked at you. “You must think I’m a monster.”

You gave her a sad smile. “No. No I really don’t. I just think you were in love.” You could feel the brother’s look at you but you didn’t look back at them. It frightened you to know that there was nothing you wouldn’t do for them, you couldn’t bear to see their faces when they realised it as well.

“Here’s the deal,” Dean finally said. “Now there are eight killers out there that we have to deal with, not just one.”

Mrs Holmes looked at you a moment longer, and you could tell that she understood what must be going through your mind. Finally, she looked at Dean and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“What? Why not?” Sam said.

“Brick used to say the heart was key. That was the focus of the sacrifice.”

Dean straightened in his seat. “Are you saying that if we stop Brick’s beating heart, then we could stop the whole thing?”

She nodded.

“Do you know where the person is who has the heart?” you said.

****

Dean put the car in park across from the strip club. It was called ‘The Bunny Hole’ and it almost had you in hysterics in the back seat.

“Really?” Dean said. “Our king daddy monster is a stripper?”

“Oh man,” you chuckled as you leaned on the front seat. “This is awesome.”

“We’re pretty sure this is gonna work, right?” Sam said.

“Well, as long as Eleanor knows what she’s talking about,” Dean said.

You picked up Dean’s duffel bag and tossed it into the front seat with him. He pulled out two knives and handed them to you and Sam before passing the bag back to you.

“You think Brick thought maybe he’d burn to nothing when he crashed that car?” Sam said.

“Yeah, but he didn’t, which brings us here.”

****

It was dark as night inside the club. You guessed that the employees didn’t exactly want people peeking in through the windows, so they’d all been boarded up. Dean smiled and inhaled once the three of you made it to the top of the stairs, your flashlights illuminating the room.

“Smell that?” Dean said. You punched him in the arm. “What?”

“You always get pissed at me whenever I check out girls in front of you. Now you’re smelling strippers in front of me?”

He mumbled something under his breath about there not actually being any strippers there but you ignored him.

There was another flight of stairs that you had to go up before you made it to the main room. There were chairs and tables, and neon signs showing you where the beer was. The lights flicked on suddenly, illuminating a large stage at the front of the room. The pole in the middle of the room was lit up a neon blue and there were gold curtains at the back of the stage.

A shadow passed behind the curtains before a woman stepped through them and strolled onto the stage. She looked like she wanted to kill the three of you, so you took a wild guess and assumed it was Randa.

“Eleanor sent you, right?” she said. She made her way to the front of the stage, running her fingers along the pole as she passed it. “I figured she’d probably break and give me up. This won’t end well for her, of course. Not that it’s gonna end well for you.”

You took a deep breath and pulled your knife from the back of your jeans.

She tilted her head at you and smiled. “Oh, now, you don’t think we’re gonna let you do that, do you?”

You smiled back. “Try me, sweetheart.”

“We?” Dean said.

She raised her eyebrows and said nothing, but then, she didn’t have to. Two men were coming up and attacking Sam and Dean before any of you got to contemplate what she’d said. When no one came at you, you were suddenly glad that you were born a woman. No one ever went after the women.

You leaped up on stage and faced off with Randa. You knew Brick’s heart must make her stronger, but all you had to do was stab her once and she was done. You thought you could do it.

You were locked in a struggle with her a moment later. The knife was inches away from piercing her heart. You had a moment to feel satisfaction at the fact that she was struggling just as hard as you, before her leg swept out and knocked yours out from under you. You landed hard on your back and the knife went flying. Before you could leap back to your feet, the two men grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you back to the stage floor. If they were there than that meant Dean and Sam were down for the count.

You looked up at them and realised that it was Paul Hayes and Jimmy Tong.

Jimmy smiled down at you. “I’m the guy from Phoenix you were looking for.”

You let out a nervous chuckle as you tested their hold on you and realised you weren’t budging. “Oh, you guys are stronger than you look.”

“Comes with the package,” Paul said. “Plus, I work out a lot.”

Randa stood between your legs and smiled down at you. “You can’t imagine who I was before,” she said. “This shy, awkward little thing from Georgia with a heart condition. Then I had the surgery.” She pressed a high-heeled foot between your breasts and you swallowed. “I became freaking Xena, Warrior Princess.” She dropped down suddenly so she was straddling you. “I couldn’t dissect a frog in high school. But sacrificing to Cacao?” She ran a finger across your jaw and down your neck. “Better than sex.” She yanked open the flannel you were wearing. It was Dean’s, and as the buttons popped you had a sudden thought that Dean was gonna be pissed about it. You pressed your lips together so you wouldn’t laugh. She ran her finger over your heart. “So, if I go real slow and take my time and enjoy this, I can actually show you your own beating heart before you die.”

You cleared your throat and smiled. “You know, I don’t usually like the girl on top, but for you? I’d make an exception.”

Her face scrunched in anger and she all but growled at you as she started digging her nails into your chest. You tried to hold it in, but eventually a scream escaped your lips as the pain burned through you. You squirmed underneath her and felt something dig into your side. It was your second knife. You silently thanked Dean for insisting on it.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Dean and Sam come up behind Paul and Jimmy. They smashed bottles over their heads. It did nothing to them, but it did distract them enough that they let go of you. The minute they did you pulled your knife out, and drove it through her heart.

You yanked the knife back out and gasped in pain as she pulled her fingers from your chest and stood. Flames began licking at the wound in her chest and her eyes glowed red. Randa groaned and stepped back as the flames spread further. You heard a thud and glanced behind you to see that Paul and Jimmy had dropped dead. There was a white flash and Randa was gone next.

You sighed and let your head fall back to the stage, glad that the hunt was finally over.

****

The three of you had stopped in to see Mrs Holmes on your way out of town, but you were glad to finally be back in the Impala and on the road. You were sitting between the brother’s in the front seat, Dean’s hand wedged between your thighs. He was stroking his thumb over your skin, one hand on the wheel. He’d had a scare earlier; worried that you’d been seriously hurt, so he kept you close for the moment.

“Wow,” he said with a smile. “Back in business. Got the win.” He looked at Sam. “Admit it – feels good, huh?” Sam said nothing. “You know, I was thinking about what Randa said about, uh, you know, what it feels like to be a warrior. I get it, man, I do.”

Sam pressed his lips together, and you could already feel the tension growing. “I know. I know you do. I don’t. Not anymore. Hell, maybe I never did.”

Dean rolled his eyes and the smile fell from his face. “Come on, Sam, don’t ruin my buzz, would you?”

“Listen, when this is over – when we close up shop on Kevin and the tablet – I’m done. I mean that.”

You swallowed and shifted in your seat.

“No, you don’t,” Dean said.

“Dean, the year that I took off, I had something I’ve never had. A normal life. I mean, I got to see what that felt like. I want that. I had that.”

“You didn’t have Y/N,” Dean snapped.

“Don’t bring me into this,” you sighed as you rubbed a hand over your eyes.

“No, I didn’t,” Sam said. He looked at you. “You told me to make a decision. So I did.”

You nodded. “I still stand by what I said.”

Dean scoffed. “Unbelievable. You’re seriously agreeing with this, Y/N?”

“Yes, Dean. It’s Sam’s life. If he wants it to be normal, than just let him.”

Dean looked at you. “And what about you, huh? You really think he’s gonna put up his white picket fence without you?” You sighed. “I’m serious, Y/N. Is this where you choose between us? Because I’m not looking to Brady Bunch it up. And I never will.”

You suddenly felt tired. For once, you just wanted the three of you to be happy. Just for one day, you didn’t want any problems. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Dean.” All you knew was that you weren’t ready to give either of them up, but you definitely didn’t want to force Sam or Dean to live lives they didn’t want to live.

Dean scoffed and pulled his hand from your leg. He glanced at his brother again before looking back towards the road with a stony expression. “I think that’s just how you feel right now.”

You didn’t know if he was talking to you or Sam.


	16. A Little Nightmare And A Little Southern Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few cases later and you thought everything was falling back into place, sure the brothers were still fighting over what Sam wanted, but mostly, things were good. Until a case pops up where people become possessed and go after the people they felt betrayed them. Suddenly all your baggage comes to the surface, but with so many people having betrayed you in the past, you end up going after the two that are closest.

Everything had been fine. Unequivocally, beautifully fine. Sure, tensions had still been a little high ever since Sam admitted to wanting out of the hunter life once Kevin was found, but for the most part things had been quiet. The three of you had gone on a few hunts – even let a werewolf go – but apart from the fact that no new info had come up on Kevin, everything had been Goddamn dandy.

Then Benny called.

He’d called injured and half-dead. Naturally, you dropped everything and raced off to help him recover and take down his old nest on Prentiss Island while Dean covered for you with Sam. Your return had not been welcoming, however. You’d figured – after bullying Dean into agreeing – you should probably tell Sam about Benny. You weren’t the type to just run off like that, and you’d never gone on a hunt without the boys. Naturally, Sam had been worried. 

So, you introduced Benny to him and it had taken all of two seconds for Sam to figure out that Benny was a vampire. He hadn’t pulled his machete because you’d told him not to, but he wasn’t happy about it. 

Afterwards, you’d expected Sam to be furious with you, but he hadn’t been. In fact, he was as kind and loving as ever. Dean, on the other hand, copped the brunt of Sam’s fury. You figured that since things had been going so well between you and Sam, Sam hadn’t wanted to screw that up. 

You felt sorry for Dean, but on the other hand, you were somewhat glad you’d dodged a bullet. Of course, that had only lasted until the fifth fight. That’s all there was now, just non-stop fighting between the two of them. It was starting to wear you down.

The worst of it all was when they’d started competing over you. Okay, so not, competing-competing but there was definitely a lot of underlining pressure surrounding your relationship with the both of them. It had been bad when Sam said he was leaving the hunting life and hoping you would go with him, but the meet-and-greet with Benny had tipped it over the edge. 

They didn’t come out and directly say or do anything that you could call them out on. They just spent less time being decent boyfriends, and more time failing at being the best in some chauvinistic attempt to win you over. What you wanted didn’t matter anymore. They treated you like a prize to be won, not a human being with feelings. 

You’d told Sam that would happen when he discussed what he’d wanted with you. He’d even admitted he knew it would, and yet he made no effort to prevent the behaviour. You were fuming with anger at the both of them, but you knew that the worst thing to do would be to throw your own anger in with theirs. 

It wouldn’t stop them from fighting, it would only fuel it. 

You and Dean were leaning back against his Impala while Sam brought food from the fast food joint you’d parked outside of. Dean was scrolling through his phone to find another case, but the moment he saw Sam strolling across the car park with paper bags in hand, Dean’s arm was around your shoulders and his lips were at your neck in a very obvious display. 

You faked a chuckle and pushed him away. Normally, you would have been all for it, but you knew he wasn’t doing it for your benefit. And Sam’s ticking jaw proved that Dean had achieved what he’d really been aiming for. 

“Heads up,” Sam said as he handed Dean his drink. Sam offered you his bag of food but you pressed your lips together and shook your head. 

He frowned and tunnelled his fingers through your hair. “You sure you’re okay?” He asked. You were glad that he was being sincere for the first time in … well, you didn’t know how long it had been. 

You nodded your head. “Yeah. I’m just not hungry.” Pawns in a chess game didn’t eat anyway. 

Sam nodded and moved to his side of the car as Dean picked his phone back up and re-read what he’d been going through before Sam distracted him. 

“I caught wind of a case in the paper. Sounds like our kind of thing,” Dean said.

Sam stopped at his door and gave his brother a bewildered look. “I wasn't even gone ten minutes.”

Dean gave him a perplexed smile in return and replied, “Okay. That matters why?”

Sam was incredulous as he shrugged and said, “I don't know, Dean. How about because you haven't said a word to me since Prentiss Island? And now, what? You want me to shut up and ride shotgun and act like nothing happened?”

You sighed and rubbed a hand over your eyes. Fifteen minutes. That’s how long they’d lasted (Sam had grossly underestimated when he said Dean hadn’t said a word to him). Ten of those minutes had been because Sam was in the fast food joint.

Dean’s jaw ticked as he put his phone away. “You want to talk about Benny?” You looked at him, shocked that he was calm. “Fine. Let's talk.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded. “How about he's a vampire?”

“He's also the reason Y/N and me are topside and not roasting on a spit in Purgatory. Anything else?”

Sam pressed his lips together and lowered his voice as a couple walked past. “Don't pretend I don't get it. I know you had to do what you had to down there.”

“I highly doubt you get anything about Purgatory.”

Sam ignored him. “But you're out now, and Benny's still breathing. Why?”

Dean thought for a moment and calmed himself before he answered. Again, you were shocked at how well he was taking the conversation, compared to Sam who looked like he   
was half way to losing his shit again. “He's my friend, Sam.”

Sam scoffed. “And what about my friend, Amy? She was what? 'Cause you sure as hell didn't have a problem ganking her.”

Dean leaned his hands against the Impala. The tensing of his arms was the only indication you had that he was angry. His voice only seemed to get calmer by the sentence. “Well, I guess people change, don't they? We let that werewolf Kate go, didn't we?”

Sam frowned; the frustration was evident on his face. He wanted a fight, but Dean wasn’t giving him one. “She was different. She –” He paused and flicked his tongue over his bottom lip. “You think Benny's different? He tell you he's not drinking live blood, or something?” Dean looked away from Sam and dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. “And you believe him. Wow. Okay. You know, you're right. People do change.”

“Yeah. I got a vampire buddy, and you turn your phone off for a year.” Dean’s was a little gruffer, and you expected the fight to finally start. 

“Don't turn this on me,” Sam said.

Much to your surprise, Dean didn’t. He went straight back to the subject of Benny and his voice was back to calm and reasonable. “Look, Benny slips up and some other hunter turns his lights out, so be it.”

Sam nodded and gave him a wry smile. “But it's not gonna be you, right?” He scoffed and got into the car when Dean didn’t answer.

“You seem awfully calm today,” you said. Your voice sounded bitter even to you.

“Hey,” Dean said as you went to open the back door. You turned to him and he slid his hand onto your hip and drew you close. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I get it, Sam and me fighting is getting to you. I’m sorry that that’s all we’ve been doing lately. But that right there? That was me trying not to start a fight. So don’t start with this passive aggressive crap, okay? Dealing with Sam is one thing, I can’t have you getting pissed at me too.”

He turned and slid into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t believe his nerve. You had more right to be pissed at the both of them and he was telling you to ‘cut it with the crap’. God, you could kill him. You’d held your tongue for so long and one slip up had him jumping down your throat. 

You took a deep breath and swallowed it all down before crawling into the backseat. Dean was a dick for saying what he did, but ultimately he was right. There was enough fighting going on.

****

Dean pulled the impala up next to the driveway of a rundown house as an ambulance pulls out. He switches the engine off and looks at Sam. “So, guy's old lady comes home while he's working underneath his ride, puts the pedal to the metal, and takes half his head off.”

Sam frowned. “What, that's it?”

“Yeah, in a nutshell. She says she blacked out, doesn't remember a damn thing.”

“That sounds like insanity,” you said as you leaned your forearms on the front seat. 

“Maybe,” Dean said.

“So, how does that make this our kind of thing?” Sam said.

Dean sighed. “Because, Sam, Kevin's in the wind, okay, you're sulking around like a eunuch in a whorehouse, and I can't help but ask myself, when is decapitation not my thing?”

He was out of the car before anyone could answer. After a shared look, you and Sam climbed out as well and followed him up the driveway towards the crime scene. A deputy came rushing over to the three of you as you passed under the yellow tape. You had your badge out before he got a chance to turn you guys away.

“FBI?” he said. 

“Yeah. Happened to be in the neighbourhood,” you said.

“First a Texas Ranger, now you guys?”

“Texas Ranger?” Dean said.

The deputy nodded. “Yes, sir. Right over there.” He turned and pointed towards a gangly man with a cowboy hat and tasselled leather jacket. Even with his back turned you knew it was Garth. 

You laughed and slapped Dean in the chest. “This is gonna be awesome.”

“You got to be kidding me,” Sam muttered as Garth took his hat off and fanned himself with it.

The three of you approached him once he had it back on. “Hey, Chuck Norris,” you said.

He turned and gave you a face-splitting smile. “Y/N? Sam! Dean!” 

Sam shushed him as Garth laughed and threw his arms around first Sam and then Dean. He went to hug you too but hesitated. 

“Yeah, still not a hugger,” you said. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, but the smile stayed on his face.

“We're still working here,” Dean said as he straightened his jacket and looked around.

Garth didn’t seem to hear him. “You guys have no idea how much I missed you.” He looked at each of you in turn with that big, goofy grin of his and you couldn’t help but feel all warm inside. 

Dean smiled at the witness Garth had been talking too. “Um, excuse us, would you?” The four of you walked far enough away from the witness that he couldn’t hear you.

“A Texas Ranger, Garth?” Dean said. “Seriously? We're in Missouri.”

“What? Come on. I look like a funeral director in one of those,” he said as he gestured to Dean’s suit. “Wow. I heard some chatter you three were back in the batter's box, but I   
didn't believe it till now.”

Both the boys had wry smiles on their faces when out of nowhere Jump by Kris Kross starts playing. Garth held a finger up and opened his jacket to reveal three phones in a row in separate pockets. He pulled one of them out and answered it. 

“Yo, Earl. What you got? A revenant. Okay, uh, you'll need a casket and some silver spikes. Oh, and don't get bit. No, it won't turn you, but it will hurt like hell. Okay, so, once you got all that, nail that sucker in, bury him, and throw away the key. Okay? All right. Hasta.”

“What are you doing?” Dean said when Garth hung up the phone. The smile fell from Garth’s face and you wanted to kick Dean for making it happen. 

“My job, hombre,” Garth said as he tucked the mobile back into his jacket pocket.

“Your job? Since when is giving advice your job?”

“Hold up,” you said before Garth could say anything. “Are you the new Bobby?”

“You shut your mouth,” Dean growled as he frowned down at you. You shrugged and stifled your smile.

“Yes,” Garth said.

Dean pointed an increasingly agitated finger at him. “You shut your mouth!” Garth did as he was told. “What?”

Garth shrugged. “Bobby was gone. You three were MIA. It was a weird time. Somebody had to step in and take up the slack.” The three of you stood dumbfounded. Garth glanced back at the witness before turning back to the three of you. “All right. Let's just get back to work, and we'll talk about this later, all right?”

“Did Garth just tell us what to do?” you said. Sam growled low in his throat and stormed off after Garth. “That was kinda hot,” you muttered.

“Hey,” Dean growled as he landed a hard slap on your ass. 

You squealed and looked around to make sure no one had seen it before looking back at him. “Relax,” you said. “I was talking about Sam, not Garth.”

He changed his tune real quick. “Oh. Uh … carry on then?”

You rolled your eyes and joined Garth, Sam and the witness with Dean tagging along behind. You tried to subtly rub away the sting on your right ass cheek but Dean’s smirk   
proved you weren’t as indiscreet as you’d hoped. 

Garth gestured to the three of you as he addressed the witness. “Scott Lew. These three here are with the FBI.” He looked to the three of you. “Mr. Lew's parents were the individuals involved in this... unfortunate situation.”

“Sorry for your loss,” Dean said.

“Just a few questions, Mr. Lew,” Sam said. “Um, by any chance were your parents having... marital problems?”

Scott shook his head and shrugged. “No. Uh, no more than anyone else.”

“What about your mother's health? Any chance this was a seizure, a stroke, anything that might help explain this?”

“I don't think so. Um, they're checking her out at the, um, hospital right now.”

Dean nodded. “What about stranger behaviour?”

Scott frowned as he looked at Dean. “Stranger? How?”

“Hearing voices, seeing things – your mother mention anything like that?”

Scott scoffed. “My parents were married for 30 years – high-school sweethearts. There's no good explanation for why this happened, no matter where you want to look.”

Garth gave him a sympathetic smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Okay, well, thank you, Scott. We'll be in touch.”

Scott nodded before walking away.

****

You sighed as you straightened up under the carport by the side of the house. The EMF meter was whirring in your hand. 

“No EMF. No traces of sulphur anywhere,” you said. “I guess Sam was right. It’s a bust.”

Garth, who had been studying a line-up of cans, turned and pointed at you matter-of-factly. “Hold on there, Y/N. There's a lot of things to factor in here. Uh, it happened last night, so the readings could be cold by now.”

“Good point,” Dean said as he gave you and Sam a smug smile.

“And, uh, even if there was any sulphur, Barney Fife and his crew probably contaminated the whole crime scene and any evidence that was here with it.”

“Wow. He's on a roll.”

Sam scoffed. “That's one word for it.”

Suddenly Garth looked down at his boot with a grimace. He slowly lifted it from the ground and you crinkled your nose as you saw green goo stretch between the ground and the   
bottom of his foot like gum. 

“Uh, guys,” he said, “I think I found something.”

“Is that gum, or is that ectoplasm?” Dean muttered.

“Ectoplasm is usually black, right?” Sam said.

Garth lifted his boot higher and scraped his hand through the goo before lifting his hand to his mouth and tasting it. “Mm. Definitely ectoplasm.”

You dry-heaved and turned to look at Sam’s chest as you covered your mouth with a hand. “Oh, God. I can’t believe he just did that.” Sam lifted a hand to the back of your head and pulled you in close to him as he and Dean grimaced along with you. “So, what are we thinking – uh, some kind of ghost, right?”

Dean snapped his fingers with a smile and you turned to face Garth again. Before anyone can spit ball some more, Wild Wild West by Kool Moe Dee starts playing. Garth pulled out one of his mobiles and answered it.

“Uh, Ranger McCrae here.”

You turned to Dean and muttered. “One of those things rings Hammer, I'm throwing down.”

“Ditto,” he said.

“Oh, great,” Garth said as he nodded on the phone. “Okay. Okay.” He pulled out a pen and started scribbling on his palm. “Thanks, Doc.” He hung up and turned to the three of you again. “Asked the coroner to drop me a line in case the autopsy turned up anything... unusual. And guess what. Our dead guy had the word ‘Alcott’ carved into his chest.” He showed you the word ‘Alcott’ scribbled on his palm as though to prove what he’d just said was true.

“With what?” Sam said.

“Coroner's best guess? His wife Mary's fingernails.”

If that wasn’t a woman scorned, you didn’t know what was.

****

You, the boys and Garth were all standing by Mary Lew’s hospital bed asking her routine questions. Or at least, as routine as they could get in your line of work. She’d   
remembered going to the grocery store and then nothing until she woke up in her driveway where her son – Scott – had found her. 

At one point she said that she remembered bits and pieces of what happened – at which point Garth had to stifle a giggle. She said she remembered him screaming and the smell of burnt rubber, and then she said she felt angry, but it wasn’t just any kind of anger. She said she felt uncontrollable rage – like she wasn’t herself – and then after it was all over it was just gone. 

Garth nodded at her explanation and said, “Uh, ma'am, does the word ‘Alcott’ mean anything to you?”

Mary’s hand clenched and she tugged her wrist against the handcuffs that chained her to the hospital bed. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“It's a she?” you said.

“My husband, Chester, and I were going steady in high school for a few years already when we had a big fight.”

“What about?” Sam said.

She smiled in a self-deprecating manner. “Something stupid, I'm sure. It was around prom, and so he took Sara Alcott as his date instead of me.”

“So, this Sara Alcott was a rival for your husband's affections?” Garth said.

Mary’s teeth clenched. “Sara had one night with him, whereas I was with Chester for 37 years.” She began sobbing and all you could think was that you wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. 

After finding out that Mrs. Alcott was still alive, the four of you left the hospital. 

****

After immediately ruling out ghost possession – on account of the fact that Mrs. Alcott was still alive – you’d decided that a bar was the next best place to go. You felt like you hadn’t eaten all day, despite the two breakfast’s you’d had. Pippin would be proud. 

Garth finished off his plate and thanked the waiter as she brought another one before looking at you and Dean with a knowing smile. “So, you two, how long has that been going on for?”

“What?” Dean said.

Garth scoffed. “Oh, please. I’ve seen the lovey dovey eyes you two make at each other. And don’t think I didn’t see that manhandling of her rear-end back at the crime scene. Which, by the way was inappropriate. But I’m happy for you guys.”

Dean gave Sam a smug smile that Garth missed and you felt your anger boil up again. Garth looked at the two of you expectantly and Dean glanced at you. You nodded in approval and he answered.

“We’ve been together about a year now.”

Garth gave the two of you a shocked look. “You mean you guys have been dating this whole time?” He laughed. “Golly, who woulda thunk it?” You and Dean gave him wry smiles and you suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore. You were overthinking Dean’s smug look to Sam. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself as your irritation at the two of them grew. 

“You know,” Garth said around a mouthful of chicken. “I always thought you and Sam would have gotten together.” He gestured between you and Sam with a chicken leg, barely   
missing the two of you with the sauce that went flying as he did so. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just always got that vibe.” Sam gave Dean a smug look and your irritation spiked again. He took a bite out of the chicken leg and gestured towards you and Dean with it next. “Anyway, give me the skinny. Where were you two this past year? Holed up in the honeymoon suite?” He chuckled at his own joke. 

Dean looked at you again and saw that you were irritated. He misconstrued it as being aimed at garth and smiled at the gangly man. “Why don't we save what we did on our summer vacation for another time?”

“Aw, come on.”

Dean looked at you again and you shrugged, trying your best to not look completely pissed off. Dean shrugged and took his chances. “All right. We were in Purgatory.”

Garth gave the two of you a perplexed smile. “Like the Purgatory Purgatory?”

“No, the one in Miami,” you said.

Garth chuckled and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Man, that's balls.”

Your eyebrows shot up at the term and you stifled your smile. Dean didn’t seem as happy. “That's not how you say ‘balls’,” he said.

Garth ignored the jab. “So how'd you get out?”

You rolled your eyes. Not because Garth was annoying you, but because you knew Dean was going to dodge the question at all costs. He still wasn’t done lying to Sam about how   
the two of you got out. And when you said lying you meant by omission because Dean hadn’t told Sam a damn thing other than Benny having something to do with it. 

Dean sighed and nodded towards the Confederate flag that was hanging up on the wall. “What's up with all the, uh, hillbilly hankies? These people know the Civil War's over, right?”

Garth nodded, not at all bothered by Dean’s avoidance. “Mm. That's a touchy subject around these parts. See, Missouri was a border state. So, half the men were Confederate, the other half were the Union.”

“How do you know all this?” Sam said.

“I went to college.”

“You went to college?”

Garth shovelled another forkful of food into his mouth. “Yeah. College, and on to dental school.”

You scoffed. “What, you – you were a dentist?”

“Yeah, just for, like, a hot minute. Where'd you think I got my first case?”

You chuckled. “Let me guess - Tooth Fairy.” Dean snorted. 

Garth became gloomy all of a sudden and put his fork down on the table. He gave you a slow nod as he stared down at the table. “Yeah. Man, I felt terrible when I ganked that SOB.”

“Uh, you killed the Tooth Fairy?” Sam said.

“Yeah, man. I mean, not my proudest moment, but it happened.” He recovered quickly and the twinkle was back in his eye as he began eating again. “Mmm. Man, this is good.”

You and Dean shared a smile. Suddenly your appetite was back and you and Dean began fighting over plates of food as per usual.

****

You laughed as Sam’s hand tickled along your ribs under your shirt. You and he were sitting at the table going through the research you’d gathered while Dean and Garth were out following up on a few loose leads. The minute the two of you had been left alone, Sam had done everything in his power to distract you from the research. You’d managed to resist him for a while, but then he started pulling out all the stops. 

He chuckled and left a line of wet kisses up your neck before catching your earlobe between his teeth. You were about to playfully push him away for the umpteenth time when suddenly his hand was squeezing your thigh and pulling it over his own so your legs were spread in your chair. 

You dropped the papers you were holding to the table as his hand slid up and cupped you boldly between the legs. Because Garth was on the hunt with the three of you, you’d opted to just stay in your casual shorts and tank top rather than changing into one of the boys flannels. The barrier didn’t seem to worry Sam. 

He rubbed the palm of his hand against your jean-clad core until you were writhing in your seat against him and your breaths were coming out in pants. His fingers deftly pulled open the button and fly of your shorts before he wasted no time pushing his hand down the fabric. He groaned when he realised you weren’t wearing any underwear. 

“Sam.” His name fell from your lips in a half moan, half laugh. “We have work to do.”

“I didn’t say you had to stop working,” he said with a wet kiss to your ear. 

You gasped as two of his fingers dipped down further and spread wetness over your clit. He started at a steady pace. When given the time, Dean liked to drag the foreplay out, but Sam liked to get you to the edge as quickly as possible and keep you there. 

By the end of it, Dean normally had you content and satiated. Sam had you a wild, mumbling mess. 

You groaned out Sam’s name and his fingers sped up. Your breathing became harsher, and your hips bucked in the chair. You dug your nails into his forearm as you tried to grind down on him. 

“Jesus,” you breathed. You felt your walls start to quiver and contract, begging for something to wrap around. 

Sam pulled his head back and watched your face as he felt the urgency in your body. You let out a low groan and let your head fall back as you gripped his shoulder with your other hand. 

“Look at me.” His voice had dropped to that growling pitch that so often had you pressing your thighs together in need. 

You did as he said and let out a whine as his hand slowed down. His touch became softer and his strokes slower. He knew you were right on the edge, so he toyed with your clit (sometimes ceased touching it) while you became wrecked with the pleasure of being on the brink of an orgasm. 

“Please, Sammy,” you moaned. His top lip snarled as he nipped at your lips. He tried to kiss you, but ended up chuckling when you were too busy making noise to kiss him. 

“Okay,” he said as he pulled back to watch your face again. “I’m going to make you cum now. And you’re going to look at me the whole time. You got that?”

You tried to nod, but all you could do was let out another high-pitched moan as you squeezed his shoulder and forearm tighter. 

He chuckled again. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Sammy’.” Without another word, his strokes became firm and quick again. 

You immediately fell over the edge with a sharp intake of breath. Your eyes stayed lock with his. His mouth dropped open with a breathy moan as you cried out for him and squeezed your thighs around his hand, trapping it against you. Your hips continued to buck again his hand and the shakes set in to your arms and legs. 

Sam pulled his hand from your shorts as soon as your thighs loosened around him. With a groan and mumbled praises, he cupped your face and kissed you as if his life depended on it. 

The moment you were sure you could stand, you pushed him back against his chair and rid yourself of clothes. Sam had his jeans and boxers down around his ankles by the time you straddled him, but he’d only gotten his flannel (which was all he’d been wearing up top) unbuttoned and caught around his elbows.

Sam didn’t need any help getting it up. The second the first moan had left your lips he’d been hard. He was inside you just as quickly, and you sat in his lap a moment to relish the feel of him stretching you. Sam’s hands were squeezing your ass, coaxing you to thrust your hips against him. 

You started bouncing in his lap. The snarl of his lip, his desperate hands and the deep growling in the back of his throat alluded to the fact that you might not get a chance to cum again, but then his fingers were at your clit and suddenly he was making it his mission to send you over the edge again.

He tried to edge you like he had before, but it was near impossible with him inside you and you came way sooner than he’d wanted you too. You came to a stop on his lap as your thighs clenched around his hips and you squeezed the wrist between your legs while your body shook.

Sam let out a frustrated sound. He’d wanted to drive you wild like he had before, but you were far too sensitive to be able to teeter on the edge of an orgasm. So he did the next best thing. He didn’t stop rubbing your clit. In fact, he even picked up the speed. 

You let out a squeak and your body jerked in his lap as you tried to stop his hand with your own. You were too sensitive to have him touch you like that after an orgasm, but he didn’t listen to your pleas. 

Eventually, he paused long enough to hoist himself to his feet and all but through you to your back on the table. At that angle, he was able to thrust into you while he continued his torture. Your thighs shook around him and your body convulsed. You kept pulling at his hand but your pleas had become interspersed with moans. 

He used his other hand to pull yours away and pin them just above your head, reminding you of just how big he was in comparison to you. 

He kept up his punishing pace as some of the research papers fell to the ground, while the ones underneath you became crinkled and covered in sweat and sex. 

“I want to feel you cum again,” Sam growled. “Just once more. You can do it.” As he said that, your over-sensitive clit came to life again and you were thrown into a third orgasm.

You cried out in surprise, but that was the only sound that managed to make it’s way out of your throat. Your mouth fell open and you back arched up off the table as you clamped down around him. You felt your toes curl and your thighs tighten around his hips. 

Vaguely, you heard Sam grunt and groan over you as he fucked you right through the orgasm. You were on cloud nine, and you didn’t feel yourself coming down anytime soon. You twisted and turned on the table, rubbing your thighs together. You shouldn’t have been able to move with the way Sam had been restraining you, and that thought alone had you opening your eyes to look up at him. 

He wasn’t holding you down anymore, he was just panting and smiling down at you. You returned the smile with a bite of your bottom lip as you continued to writhe on the table.   
“How are you feeling? Was that okay?” he said. He ran a large hand up your thigh. Your skin was overstimulated so it felt like you could feel every bump of his skin against yours. It tickled, so you started laughing. 

He chuckled down at you. Just as he reached out to help you up, the motel door opened and Garth barged in. He stared at the two of you in shock as you suddenly sobered up and climbed to your feet to hide behind Sam. 

Sam had yanked his jeans up with lightning speed the minute he’d heard the door open. Now his back was to Garth as he slid his flannel the rest of the way off and helped you into it. Once he was sure that you were sufficiently covered up, he turned back to Garth with a nervous smile.

“Garth. Uh, what are you doing back so soon?”

Garth seemed to shake his head clear before looking at the two of you again. He sure as hell didn’t look happy. He scoffed at Sam’s question. “I’m sure that’s mighty inconvenient for you, huh, Sam? Y/N, Dean loves you. How could the two of you do this to him?”

You and Sam breathed out a sigh of relief and shared an amused look. You stepped forward. “Garth, it’s not what you think –”

“Like hell it ain’t! Mamma always said that if it smells like a ‘gator and it tastes like a ‘gator, then it’s probably a ‘gator.” Garth ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m sorry guys, but you gotta tell Dean. If you won’t, then I will.” 

“Tell Dean what?” Dean said as he walked through the open door. He took one look at the state of you, Sam and the research papers, and you knew he knew what had happened.   
Garth patted Dean on the shoulder with a sorrowful look. “I’m so sorry, Dean. But, I’m afraid to say, I walked in on Sam and Y/N … doing the dirty.”

Dean’s jaw dropped and he put a hand over his heart as he gave you and Sam a mock look of devastation. “How could you?”

Without turning, you could tell that Sam was giving his brother the ultimate bitch face. You knew because you were giving Dean the same look. 

“Dean,” Sam warned.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Sam. We could at least have a little fun with it. Besides, you brought it on yourselves. Didn’t I tell you not to have sex if you knew I was coming home soon?”

“You weren’t supposed to be back this soon,” you said.

Dean shrugged. “The leads deadpanned.” He turned to look at Garth who looked completely dumfounded. “Thanks for looking out for me pal.” Dean patted him on the shoulder. “But I already know they’re bumpin’ uglies.” 

Dean walked past you and Sam to start gathering up the papers that had fallen to the floor. He picked up your clothes as well and threw them on the closest bed. 

Garth spluttered. “Dean, that’s awful. I know you love her, but you shouldn’t put yourself through that.” He jabbed a finger in your and Sam’s direction with a frown. “Shame on the both of you.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to give Dean an expectant look. He sighed and said, “Garth, it’s not like that. We have an arrangement. She’s dating both of us.”

You turned back to Garth and smiled at his expression. You could practically hear his jaw hitting the floor. “Does your Mamma have a saying for that one?” you said. 

“Come on!” Dean growled before Garth could say anything. He held up a crumpled file with damp patches all over it. “New rule. No sex on the police files.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Garth,” Sam said. “But we all thought you already knew. We don’t exactly try to hide it.”

Garth could do nothing but splutter again as Sam’s mobile rang. Another body had popped up.

****

You were back in your FBI clothes, itchy as all hell but lax in the afterglows of great sex. The three of you stood in the middle of an aisle at the local convenience store, staring down at a body (a poor guy named Jeff – courtesy of Scott). Blood pooled out around it and soaked through the sheet that covered it. 

“So, first the mom goes Natural Born Killer, and now the son?” Dean said. “Well, what do we got – a ghost with an Oedipus complex?” You gave him a shocked look and he shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know what that means.”

Sam pointed to the refrigerator just behind the body. “Check that out.” In blood, near the bottom of the door, was written the word ‘Sussex’. 

“Sussex. What is that, another name?” you said.

“I don’t know.”

Just then Garth came strolling down the aisle after talking with the police officer on duty. He was back in his Ranger jacket, but instead of the cowboy hat, he had an old, dirty baseball cap on. 

“Hey, what'd the cops say?” you said.

Garth gave you an odd look but was distracted when he stepped in the same green goo that had been found at the last crime scene. You knew that Garth was finding it difficult to comprehend the relationship you had with the boys, but you hoped he would get over it quickly. 

“Aw, come on,” he muttered as he shook off the green goo. He sighed and looked back up at you, this time, he wasn’t giving you an odd look. “Not much. Uh, Scott insisted he wasn't in control of himself. Says all he remembers is a red-hot rage.”

“So, what is this, some – some kind of family curse?”

Garth opened his mouth to answer but Dean interrupted. “Is that Bobby's hat?”

Garth smiled and adjusted the hat on his head. “Oh, yeah. Sure is. We worked a rugaru case together a few years back. He left it in my car, so I kept it as a –” Dean snatched the hat from Garth’s head and you punched Dean in the arm, “... memento. What are you doing?”

“That’s not how you wear it,” Dean snapped, glaring at you for good measure when you went to give him a piece of your mind. 

Garth folded his arms and scowled at Dean just as the deputy came around the corner. “Gentlemen, uh Miss, surveillance is up but something is all screwy with it.” Dean tucked Bobby’s cap into his jacket without another look at Garth as he followed the deputy to the TV screen with the surveillance footage.

The security camera had been in the perfect angle to catch Scott doing Jeff in with a shovel, but Scott’s head was obscured by a white light that stretched across the scene.

“Must be the camera,” the deputy said.

“Yeah, thank you, there, deputy,” Garth said. 

The deputy nodded and left the three of you to it. 

“You guys see the head?” you said. “Any of you ever seen anything like that before?”

“Like that?” Garth shook his head. “No way.”

“So?” Sam said.

“So…” Dean said.

“So,” Garth said, “I'm thinking we need to talk to Sara Alcott. I found her – although these days, she goes by Sara Brown.”

Sam nodded. “How about this? Me and Y/N will check her out, and you two see what you can find out about Sussex.”

“Word,” Garth said.

Dean gave Sam a hard look. “Awesome.”

Sam gave him a pleased smile in return and guided you out of the store with his hands on your hips. 

****

Alcott turned up clean. Apart from some awkward flirting and sexual innuendo’s she was as innocent as they came. You sighed as you leaned back against the Impala at the end of her driveway. Sam stopped in front of you and scoped out the street (a hunter’s habit) before smiling down at you.

“How you doing? After earlier, I mean. It wasn’t anything we hadn’t done before, but it’s the roughest either of us has been with you since …”

“My break down?” You smiled to soften the words.

Sam snorted and nodded. “Yeah, something like that. We didn’t really get a chance to talk about it afterwards because of Garth. ”

You shrugged. “I’m doing okay. I mean, I had some pelvic pains on the way over here, but they were so mild I’d barely noticed them. I think the anti-depressants are starting to take an effect on them. And I felt kind of, uh … I don’t know.” You shrugged and scratched at the back of your neck.

Sam watched your face intently. He nudged you in the shoulder. “Tell me.”

“I just … felt kind of down, you know? But that’s normal, right? I mean, I’ve heard of some people having it way worse.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, it is normal. I think you’re getting better though. I mean, as better as you can get, I guess. I think being back on the medication is helping. I think talking about it is helping too. I know that’s not something you were looking forward to, but you’re handling it pretty well.”

“Yeah, I mean … it just takes time, right?”

Sam smiled and chucked you under the chin. “Right.”

You drew in a deep breath and let it out before you said, “Right. So, we should call Dean and let him know what happened with Alcott.”

Sam leaned against the car beside you and called Dean, putting him on speakerphone when he answered so the both of you could talk to him. 

“Sara Alcott's clean,” you said, “if you look past the fact that she and Chester knocked boots on prom night back in the day.”

“Okay,” Dean said, “so... Mary has a grudge against Sara, and Scott has a grudge against Jeff. Besides the fact this is making my head hurt how does this add up to a ghost?”

Garth’s voice came over the phone suddenly. “Guys! Bobby has it right here. Green goo equals a spectre.” You guessed he was reading Bobby’s diary.

“Which equals ghost, right?” Dean said.

“Mm, yeah, kind of. A spectre is an avenging ghost. It, uh – it possesses you and finds out whatever betrayals you're feeling and forces you to act on them.”

“Bobby say anything in there about how we hunt these things?” Sam said.

“Uh, the last spectre he encountered rose shortly after someone desecrated a nearby grave.” He went silent for a moment and you could hear the sound of fingers tapping away at laptop keys. “Which ... uh, there was a grave desecrated locally three days ago. It says here... Oh. This could get awkward.”

****

“The Unknown Soldier?” you said as you stood in the local cemetery with Garth and the boys staring at the commemoration tomb. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Mary Lew steamrolled her husband the day after this place was vandalized,” Garth said. “Do the math.”

“But I thought the Unknown Soldier was buried in Arlington,” Sam said.

“Yep, but this is the Confederate tomb of the Unknown Soldier. See, the idea was, they took a faceless, nameless soldier they couldn't identify, and they buried him here to   
commemorate all the soldiers who died.”

“Did you learn that in college?” Dean said.

“Nope – Civil War re-enactments. Once a year, every year.” The three of you looked at him. “Don't hate.”

Sam smiled. “Okay, uh, what about the guard?” 

You looked over at the man in full uniform that stood by the door of the tomb. 

“Uh, he's ceremonial,” Garth said. “Gone by dusk.”

“So, then we do this tonight?” Dean said.

Garth nodded and you scoffed. “Burn a Confederate soldier's bones in a town full of rednecks? Su-u-ure.” You pushed past them with a shake of your head and headed towards the exit. 

****

The tomb didn’t look disturbed when the four of you snuck in there later that night. But Garth said there’d been trash, graffiti and the concrete casket had been open before it was all cleaned up and put right again. 

“So, what?” Sam said. “If they never touched this, none of this would be happening?”

“Yeah, according to Bobby,” Garth said. 

“All right, well, let's get this party started.” You moved to the side of the casket and helped Dean and Garth slide the concrete slab off while Sam inspected a thin cord he found on   
the floor. 

The slab fell to the floor with a hollow thud, revealing a skeleton dressed to the nine’s in a uniform with a sword and gun strapped to him. 

“Whoa. Check out this hardware,” Garth said. “Do you guys know how much this is worth?”

“Yeah, but why open it up if you're not gonna take anything?” you said.

“I don't know,” Sam said as he pulled a canister of lighter fluid from the duffel bag he’d brought in. “Maybe the cops showed up and they had to split fast.” 

Garth unscrewed the canister of salt he’d been holding and Dean pulled some matches from his back pocket. “You sure this will work, even on a spectre?’

“It's a ghost, isn't it?” Dean said. “You burn its bones, the ghost disappears.”

Sam and Garth poured the lighter fluid and salt over the bones. Just as Dean prepared to light him up, Garth interjected. “All right. All right. All right. Uh, I kind of feel like we   
should say something, all right? Don't you? Just... a little...”

Dean and Sam shared a look and Dean shrugged. “Sure.” Dean smiled down at the skeleton. “We won.” He lit a match up and tossed it onto the bones.

****

Another damn body. This time, it was the sheriff, and the deputy had done it right in the middle of the police station. Shotgun right to the face. 

You pressed your lips together as two men wheeled away the sheriff’s body on a stretcher. Dean looked over the blood spatter behind the sheriff’s desk before eyeing off his files.  
“Ten bones says Deputy Doug had an axe to grind with his boss,” Dean said. 

“How can you be so sure?” Garth said. You pointed to the green goo that coated the tape dispenser on the sheriff’s desk. “Ah, what the hell?”

“Maybe we torched the wrong redneck.”

“Or maybe not,” you said. “Maybe an object was removed from the grave, something the spectre's attaching itself to.”

“Like Bobby's flask?” 

You shrugged.

“Um, I don't know, guys,” Garth said. “You saw what I saw. Those kids didn't take anything.”

“Or they did,” Sam said.

“And this spectre hitched a ride with it,” Dean said.

“And whoever has the object gets possessed.”

Garth nodded. “Okay. So, who's got the object, and, more importantly, who do they got a grudge against?”

****

You were rushing into the hospital just as a gun shot went off and screams erupted from the reception area. After a brief talk with a very rattled Deputy Doug, you’d found out that Karl – a fellow officer – had been hit with the spectre virus and was on his way to the hospital with a gun. 

You didn’t give Dean, Sam or Garth a chance to argue as you assigned them to find out more about the Unknown Soldier as you’d raced out of the police station. 

You ran into reception and immediately saw Karl. He had his back to you, and his gun pointed towards a nurse cowering on the ground. He was screaming about stealing second in baseball and kept calling the nurse ‘ump’.

Eventually, he’d lifted the gun to his shoulder and pulled the trigger, only to find that he didn’t have any bullets left. 

“Looks like you're shooting blanks,” you said.

Karl turned on you and you yanked the gun from his grip and hit him in the face with the butt of it (a move Dean had taught you). Karl’s head snapped to the side, and then he looked at you and smiled. There wasn’t a trace of blood coming from his nose, and you knew for a fact that you’d hit him hard enough to break his nose. 

“Hey, that tickled,” Karl said.

“Ah, shit.” You took a step back but his fist landed on your cheekbone and you fell heavily to the floor. You grunted as he pulled you back to your feet by the neck. 

“Karl, listen, I know the spectre's turning the temperature up in there. So just tell me what the object is, and we'll send this joker home.” You smiled at him and he smiled back. You didn’t feel like that was a good sign.

“I don't think so. There's unfinished business, thanks to you.” You grimaced as he sniffed your face. “Oh, the spectre likes you.”

You gave him a wry smile. “Oh, yeah? Why don't you tell him to come on out here and we'll make promise bracelets.”

He pushed you backwards suddenly, with enough force that you hit the desk behind you and rolled over the top of it to fall to the floor on the other side. You grunted as you rolled to your back. Karl knelt beside you and held up a penny with a hole in the top of it. 

“Here,” he said. “Have a taste.” He pressed the coin into the palm of your hand and suddenly all you could think about was putting a bullet through Sam and Dean’s heads.

****

Sam, Dean and Garth exited the library filled with information about a lucky penny and two brother’s that fought against each other in the civil war.

Sam had his phone pressed to his ear as he tried to call you for the millionth time. He growled in frustration and hung up again when you didn’t answer.

“What the hell was I thinking?” Dean snapped. “Letting her go off on her own like that.”

“I did too, Dean,” Sam said. “Let’s just get to the hospital. I’m sure she’s fine, she has to be.”

****

You weren’t fine, as Sam and Dean soon discovered. The hospital had been in ruin and you were nowhere to be found. They’d headed straight back to the motel, hoping that your first instinct would be to go back home (which just so happened to be wherever they’d set up for the night). They were worried sick. Sam kept calling you and Dean kept muttering about how it was all his fault. 

Sam was on the phone to you again as they walked into the motel with Garth. He heard your phone ringing and hung up when he saw you sitting on the end of one of the bed’s with your phone by your side. 

“Y/N? What the hell?” Sam said. He and Dean rushed towards you but pulled up short when they noticed the gun in your hand and the green goo running from your ear. 

You stood and pointed the gun at the two of them. “I am not your toy.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Sam said. “I know it's not you in there pulling the strings.”

“Shut up!” Dean took a step towards you, saying your name in the sweetest way that he could. “Don't!” You looked to Garth, his hand inching towards his own gun. “That means you too.” You looked back at the brothers. “Neither of you care about me. Not anymore. Not like you used too.”

“That's not true,” Dean said. 

“Really? ‘Cause all either of you’ve ever done since I climbed into bed with the two of you is treat me like the damn rope in your tug-of-war game.”

“What do you want us to say?” Sam said. “That we've made mistakes? We've made mistakes, Y/N.”

“That’s not Y/N, Sam,” Garth said.

“Shut up! Mistakes? What you’ve been doing isn’t a mistake, Sam. It’s a choice! You remember when we talked about what would happen if you chose to get out of the hunter life   
and try to take me with you? Do you?” Sam nodded. “Well, then you have no excuse! You knew exactly what would happen. You knew that I’d become nothing but a pawn for the two of you to fight over but you did it anyway.”

“Y/N,” Dean stepped forward and you snapped at him to stop where he was.

“You’re just as bad as he is,” you growled at Dean. “Everything you do, you do to piss off Sam. Every time you touch me it’s because you think Sam’s watching. Every time you kiss   
me it’s because Sam’s watching. Every time you tell me you love me surprise, surprise it’s because Sam’s watching!”

“Okay,” Sam said. “We get it. We’ve been taking you for granted the last couple of days.”

You scoffed and pointed the gun more firmly in his direction. “The last couple of days? Try ever since I got back from Purgatory! All you two ever do now is fight and drag me into it. You think I want to be torn between the two of you? Do you have any idea how many times I’ve woken up in the middle of the night and packed my bag to leave, only to change my mind and unpack it before either of you wake up?”

Sam’s heart dropped at the confession, and he knew his brother felt the same. He’d known that you’d been angry about all the fighting, that you’d felt unimportant because of it. But you were right, he and Dean had taken you for granted. Not once did he suspect that you’d considered leaving them because of it. The entire time he’d assumed that you would just be there whenever he needed you. 

Sam thought back to when he’d first met you. He thought back to how lucky and grateful he’d felt to have you in his life. He remembered promising himself that he’d do anything in his power to hold onto you. He’d broken that promise twice now. Once when you went to Purgatory, and again when you’d come back. 

Sure, you’d acted like everything was fine. You’d been just as affectionate with them, and kind to them as you always had, but Sam was suddenly realising that you’d been bottling it all up. That you’d been holding on to all your anger just to keep the peace. 

“Y/N … I am so sorry,” Sam said. 

“Sorry!?” You took a step closer to him and Sam saw Dean in his peripherals moving out of your crosshairs. “Are you fucking kidding me? Sorry isn’t good enough, Sam. You know, I was dehumanised in that mental health hospital. And when you busted me out I thought that I would never have to experience that again. But you’re doing the exact same thing! I’m not a person to you anymore. I’m just some piece of ass that you and your brother fight over like dogs on a god damn bone.” You swung your gun around on Dean who’d been sneaking up on your flank. “Don’t even try it you asshole. You just sit tight. Once I’m done with your brother, you’re next. And you’re going to want to listen to what I have to say to you."

Sam hands were on your shoulders then, and he was swinging you around until your back hit the wall, shattering the decorative pane of glass in it. His hand stayed tight around your wrist, keeping you from aiming it in his direction. 

You’d always been a decent match for the Winchesters in a fight. They were bigger and stronger than you, but you were smaller and faster. You were able to pull off moves that they couldn’t. Now though, with the spectre inside you, you didn’t need any fancy moves to take down Sam because you were just as strong as him. 

You hooked your leg behind his knee and shoved him backwards. He stumbled but he didn’t go to the ground, and his hand was still wrapped around your wrist. You landed a blow to his jaw – jarring him enough to let you go – before sending a kick into stomach and sending him flying into the coffee table and couch across the room. 

Dean came at you next, but you’d already had enough time to aim the gun at him. You were breath away from pulling the trigger when Garth jumped between the two of you. “Whoah, whoah!”

“Garth, don't,” Dean said.

Garth swallowed and held his hands up as he faced you. “No, she won't kill me. Her beef isn't with me. You're not gonna shoot me, are you, Y/N?”

You lifted the gun to aim at his forehead. “Move.”

“Come on, Y/N. You do not want to kill them. You – you're in love with them. The three of you have been protecting each other for … god knows how long it’s been. Don't stop   
now.”

“They don’t care anymore! I’m nothing to them.”

“All right. All right. I don’t know what’s going on with you three but they care, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them care about someone as much as they care about you. I know   
you're angry. But, man, you got to fight this thing. Do not do this! Just let it go. Come on, Y/N.”

“No,” you growled. You went to push past him to get to Dean, but Garth’s fist struck you on the cheekbone and you stumbled. Your palm loosened on the gun’s grip and the   
penny slid from your hand.

You held your hand to your face. “Ow! Twice in the same spot? Jesus!”

Garth shook his hand out. “Ow! God!” Breathing through the pain, he stepped forward and picked the penny up off the ground.

“Garth, don't!” Dean said.

“It's cool,” Garth said as he held the penny up. “It's all good. I'm cool.”

You touched the green goo in your ear with a grimace and Sam sighed, slumping where he sat on the floor.

****

Garth was long gone, Sam was slumped in the passenger seat as you and Dean packed the gear up. Sam had been giving you guilty glances and avoiding you all night. You didn’t remember much of what you’d said, but you could guess the general gist of it if you thought hard about what you’d been angry at them about lately. 

Dean threw his duffel bag into the trunk with more force than was needed. You frowned. “What’s your problem?”

He rounded on you. “What’s my problem? How about all that bullshit you were spouting earlier? About me and Sam not caring about you anymore.”

You scoffed. “I can’t believe you. You have no right to be angry over that.”

“Like hell I don’t.”

You watched him for a moment. Really watched him. You saw the hurt in his eyes, but there was no guilt. “Oh my God, you seriously believe you’ve done nothing wrong, don’t   
you?” His jaw ticked. “Unbelievable.”

“Me and Sam fight. You knew what you were getting into.”

You shoved him as angry tears welled up in your eyes. “You know that’s not what this is about.”

“Then enlighten me! Because as far as I’m concerned, I’ve treated you like nothing but a god damn queen.”

You gave him a bewildered look as the tears fell. You didn’t think you were crazy for being angry. You were right to be, weren’t you? “Oh, fuck you, Dean.”

You pulled your bag from the trunk of the car and began walking in the opposite direction of him. You didn’t turn back or answer when Dean called after you. You were too overwhelmed with anger and self-doubt to do anything but walk. 

You waited until you heard the squeal of the Impala’s tires before you broke down on the grimy concrete.


	17. A Slice of Kevin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You come back to the Winchesters after a month with hallucinations of Cas and new information that might help to find Kevin.

You’d lasted a month without the boys. At first you’d left because you needed a few days away from them, but the longer you stayed away the more at ease you felt. There was no fighting. It was just quiet and calm on the road by yourself. Sam and Dean had taught you enough to scrounge and hustle enough money to live off, so that hadn’t been a problem. They’d even taught you how to stay off the radar, so you had no problem hiding from them (though there had been a few close calls). You’d even worked your own case. It was just a simple salt and burn, and even that had felt more fun without the boys. 

You liked hunting. You liked helping. You liked life without Sam and Dean. And then the loneliness set in and you realised how much you actually missed them. You’d been right in the first place – you only needed a break from them. You loved them too much to leave them completely. 

You tried finding company elsewhere (telling yourself you could move on from them – that it wasn’t healthy for you to be around them right now). You’d met other hunters in bars but they were all seasoned and had their own groups or preferred life alone. Cas was gone so you couldn’t turn to him – same story for Bobby. Once, you contemplated reaching out to Crowley. You’d even pulled all the ingredients together to summon him. But you knew that if you went to him willingly he would never let you go, and you’d end up on the wrong side of the fight between demons and hunters. 

Eventually, the loneliness got so bad that you drove all the way back to the mental health institute you’d left and tried to convince yourself to go back. You would have done it if you didn’t like hunting so much. 

So, a month later, here you were on the road that led back to Rufus’s cabin. You didn’t know if Sam and Dean would be out on a hunt, but the cabin was their home base. They’d go back eventually. 

You sighed and rested your elbow on the open window of your stolen car. Scratching your forehead as you kept one hand on the wheel. Butterflies twisted in your stomach as you wondered what the brothers’ reactions would be when they saw you. Would they be angry? Happy? Would they even notice how long you’d been gone for? Had they just let you go and given up on looking?

It was driving you insane thinking about it, so you tried to focus on the road. When that didn’t work, you focused on the man walking on the side of the road. You could only see him from the back so all you knew was that his hair was short and dark, and he wore a trench coat. It reminded you so much of Cas that you tried to get a glimpse of his face as you sped past.

You slammed on the brakes. 

The man didn’t just look like Cas. He was Cas. You looked over your shoulder and tried to find him. When there was no sign of him you chucked the car into reverse and backed up to the Twin Pines Resort sign you’d seen him walking past.

You left the car running as you got out and looked around. You didn’t stop until another car came around the bend and almost ploughed into the rear end of your car.   
There was no sign of Cas, and after five minutes of driving you convinced yourself you were seeing things. 

****

You hesitated before rapping your knuckles against the wood of the cabin door. You took a deep breath as you heard light footsteps from inside and the racking of a gun. There was a moment of silence and you looked at the peephole with a tentative smile, knowing that one of them must be looking through it. Then there was a muffled cry of alarm and the door was wrenched open to reveal Sam. Only Sam.

There was a mixed look of alarm and relief on his face, and just seeing him again had tears welling up in your eyes and your bottom lip quivering. 

“I had nowhere else to go,” you said, your voice breaking.

With a strangled sound, Sam hauled you into his arms and squeezed you tighter than he’d ever squeezed your before. You dropped the duffel bag in your hand and clung to the   
back of his shirt as you began sobbing. 

“I never stopped looking for you. I promise. Not this time,” he said. “I’ve been so worried about you.” He pulled back, cupped your face in his hands and studied you for a moment before pressing kisses to your forehead, nose, temples and finally your mouth. 

His kiss was slow and long. Not at all like he normally was. He was normally rough and took what he wanted, but not this time. This time he asked permission with his mouth and was hesitant when you invited him in. 

He pulled away too soon and you were left lightheaded. Your crying had stopped, but you still felt snotty and gross when he pulled you back into his body and buried his face against your hair. 

He pulled away too soon again and bent down to pick up your bag before gesturing you inside. 

“Do you want a drink? Food? Shower?”

You sniffed and chuckled as you collapsed down the couch. “I haven’t been starving and homeless this whole time Sam.

He let out a nervous laugh and scratched the back of his neck. “Right.” He dropped your bag to the floor and collapsed onto the couch next to you. Without thinking, he grabbed your legs and pulled them into his lap, stroking his hands against them as he tried to make up for all the contact he’d lost. 

“So, where have you been this whole time?” he said.

You shrugged. “All over the place. I never had a destination in mind. I just sort of … drove. I worked a salt and burn case on my own. Helped a few hunters. I tried to stay busy mostly.” Sam nodded. “Then I started to realise how much I missed you and Dean. No matter what Dean said to me, or how angry I was at him for it … it wasn’t worth giving the two of you up.”

“It was hard here without you, too. It was the hardest at night. I couldn’t sleep without you there. Neither of us could.” His eyes were fixed to the ground as though remembering   
the hard nights he was talking about.

You swallowed back more tears and glanced around the cabin. “Where’s Dean anyway?”

Sam took in a deep breath and looked at you. “Uh, he went to get food. I was trying to track your phone again. We knew you wouldn’t dump it – you hate memorising phone numbers – so we figured you’d turn it back on eventually. We tried to track it every time the leads dried up.” 

You nodded and suddenly became fascinated with your fingernails. 

“He missed you too, you know,” Sam said.

“Did he?” you said nonchalantly.

“Yeah. A lot. He was an idiot for saying what he did.” Sam smiled. “It took me yelling at him to make him see sense, but he finally realised he screwed up. By the time he turned back, though, you were gone. He’s gonna be angry when he sees you. You know that right? I – I mean he’s … Dean –”

“It’s all he knows. Yeah, I got it.” You sighed and stood up from the couch, running your hand through your hair as you imagined the way Dean would react when he walked through the door.

“Don’t fight with him. Please,” Sam said. “Just let him vent. He’s been beating himself up so bad that even I felt too guilty to blame him.”

You never got a chance to answer before the front door was opening and Dean was stepping through it. You hadn’t even heard the Impala pull up.

“Sam, whose car –” Dean stopped short when he saw you standing there. “Y/N.”

You gave him a tentative smile and stepped within arm’s length of him. “Hi, Dean.”

The shock in his face gave way to frustration and betrayal and sadness. “Hi? That’s all you’ve got to say to me. After everything … and you just leave like that. For a month. Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been! We had no idea what had happened to you. We’ve got our hands full with Kevin, we can’t run around the country hunting you down too.”  
You’d been willing to take his anger, but that had hurt. “I didn’t ask you to do that, Dean,” you said through clenched teeth.

“Are you kidding me right now? Of course I’m going to look for you. I’m in love with you, Y/N. What the hell did you think was going to happen when you took off like that?” 

Tears welled up in your eyes again at his words. He didn’t tell you he loved you often, but when he did it was because the words mattered. 

His voice softened as you tried to subtly wipe at your cheeks. “What made you come back at least? And where the hell have you been?”

You shrugged and let out a bitter laugh as you kept your eyes diverted from Dean. “I went travelling, I guess. Tried to find … I don’t know, something. Then I realised, you and   
Sam are all I have.”

Dean dragged a hand down his face as a tear rolled down his cheek. Without another word, he gripped your shoulder and pulled you in against him. You didn’t sob into his shirt like you had with Sam, but you clung to him just as tightly. 

****

The three of you were seated at the table a few hours later after catching up and becoming reacquainted with each other’s company. You sat in Dean’s lap. His arms were squeezed around you and his face was buried against your shoulder as you tapped away at Sam’s laptop to find the newspaper articles you’d told them about earlier.   
Dean had been hogging you – for lack of a better term – since he got back. Sam let him go. Of course, he’d missed you like nothing else, but he hadn’t had to suffer through the kind of guilt that Dean had. He was willing to wait a day or two before finally showing you just how much he missed you. 

“I wasn’t just sight-seeing while I was gone,” you said as you pulled up an article and started searching for another. "I figured the two of you might spend more time than you should looking for me.”

Dean scoffed and lifted his head to look at the laptop screen. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

“Figures,” you teased. “Anyway, every day I spent half an hour or so keeping tabs on the demons. I knew you guys were having trouble finding Kevin, so I figured I’d watch them   
and see if they could dig up anything you guys couldn’t.”

Sam gave you a pleasantly surprised look. “Smart.”

You smiled. “I’m not just a pretty face.” 

Dean grunted. “It’s the best part about you though.” You rolled your eyes and looked at him, earning a teasing smile and kiss to the forehead. “So, did you find anything?”

“Yeah. I mean, a kid went missing from a preschool a few days ago and at the same time a surprise tornado hit, lasted maybe 20 seconds, then, uh... shazam! Back to perfect   
weather.”

Dean scoffed. “And they pooh-pooh climate change.”

Sam chuckled at his choice of words.

“Also,” you said, “similar wackiness has happened over the past few weeks in other places – uh, Tulsa, a bus driver vanishes and a river gets overrun with frogs. New Mexico – a mailman disappears, the earth splits open.”

“And you think this is demons?” Sam said.

“Yeah, probably, but … I mean, this stuff was major. These folks have nothing in common – no religious affiliations, different hometowns, all ages. Why would demons want them?”

“Why do demons want anything?” Dean said.

You shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know if this has anything to do with Kevin. But it seems weird enough that I think we should do some digging.”

“Agreed,” Sam said.

****

You laughed as Dean pulled your clothes from your body with as much desperation and excitement as a kid on Christmas. He fell upon you (his own clothes discarded on the floor) and pressed his lips against yours in an aggressive manner that was more like Sam than Dean. 

The thought of Sam had you remembering that he was in the next room with a pair of headphones and a book. 

“What happened to your rules,” you laughed between kisses. 

“Screw the rules,” he growled. “I thought you were dead.”

And suddenly his desperation didn’t seem so endearing. You pushed against his shoulders and forced him to look at you. 

“You really thought that?” you said. 

He looked away from you for a moment before staring down at you again. “This past week, when I tried to sleep, I just kept thinking the worst had happened. I mean, you hadn’t called … and I just –”

 

You silenced him with a kiss. “I’m so sorry,” you said.

He shook his head and pressed another kiss to your lips. “I am too. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was wrong.”

His mouth was at your neck a moment later and your head tilted back in bliss as he thrust into you without warning. The sex was as desperate as he’d been all night. He was   
rougher than usual – as rough as Sam normally was – and his hand covered your mouth to stop you screaming louder than his brother’s music. 

****

It was getting late in the night when you, Sam and Dean made your way up the steps and onto the porch of Mrs Hagar. She was the teacher that had been watching the little boy that had gone missing. Sam rapped his knuckles against the door and held his badge up to the glass pane. Dean did the same. You were too short to see through it so you didn’t offer the same courtesy. 

She opened the door slightly, but didn’t undo the chain that stopped it from going any further. She looked a little surprised at seeing you there, but didn’t comment on it.   
“Mrs. Hagar?” Dean said. “Agents Roth, Malloy and Stickler. We want to speak to you about Aaron Webber's abduction.”

She gave the three of you a tired look. “Like I told the police, one minute I was taking Aaron to get cleaned up, and the next minute... I woke up in a park three blocks away.”  
“And you have no memory of what happened?” Sam said.

She shook her head. “No. He was just gone.”

“Can you think of any reason why somebody would want to harm him?” you said, knowing how stupid you must sound to her. “Um, any enemies?”

“Enemies? He's five.” 

You gave her a tight lipped smile and Sam pulled his phone from his pocket, pretending as though he was making a call. As he lifted it to his ear he whispered the exorcism. 

Mrs Hagar frowned at him. “Excuse me?”

Dean gave her a charming smile, one that was wasted on her because she didn’t seem at all affected by it. “It's, uh, code for your own safety so that you can't reveal anything   
under enhanced interrogation. Now, when you woke up on the floor, were there any signs of struggle?”

“No.”

“Smell like sulphur?” Sam said after putting his phone away.

She hesitated a moment and gave each of you long looks. “How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess. Thanks for your time.”

Mrs Hagar closed the door and the three of you made it down the porch steps and driveway. 

“No reaction to the exorcism,” you said.

“Yeah, not possessed at the moment,” Sam said. “But I'm willing to bet a demon got a hold of Aaron Webber.”

****

The three of you booked a motel for the night, none of you awake enough to make the drive back to the cabin. Dean was asleep in his bed alone. Sam had convinced him to give you up for a night, and now you had Sam’s large body spooned around you. His face resting above your head and his arm wrapped tight around your waist. 

You were staring out the window, the sound of the rain hammering against the glass keeping you awake. Not for the first time, you thought about Cas and how much you missed   
him. How much you wished he was there right then so you could hug him and tell him how sorry you were that you couldn’t get him out. 

As if your thoughts materialised him, lightning flashed and suddenly Cas was standing outside your window staring at you. You pulled out of Sam’s arm and scurried to the window, only to find your reflection staring back at you. You took in a deep breath and it shook as you let it out. 

Sam – who’d woken up the moment you’d yanked yourself away from him – grumbled as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes. 

“Y/N? What's going on? Are you all right?” He threw back the covers and got to his feet to join you at the window. He slid his hands onto your hips and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I don't know,” you said. “I just saw something.”

“You saw what?”

You hesitated before answering, but you couldn’t keep it in anymore. This hadn’t been the first time that you’d seen Cas. Nor was it the first time you’d seen him when you   
stopped at the Pine Rivers Resort sign. You felt like you were going crazy and you needed to tell someone.

“Cassie,” you whispered.

Sam froze behind you. “Cas? Where?”

You nodded towards the window. “Right there. And – and – and earlier, on the road. I feel like I'm seeing him everywhere.”

“That's... not possible. I mean, you said it yourself. You made it out and he didn't, right?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and turned to lean back against the windowsill. “I tried so hard to get him out of there.” 

Sam nodded. “I know you did.”

You ran your hand through your hair. “You know, I could have pulled him out. I just don't understand why he didn't try harder. And – and I feel like Dean blames me sometimes, you know? Like he shouldn’t have left me to do it. I feel like I failed him.”

“Hey,” Sam threaded his fingers through your hair and forced you to look up at him. “Dean doesn’t blame you for whatever happened. Trust me, you’d know if he did. You did everything you could.”

“Yeah, but why do I feel like crap?”

“Survivor's guilt?” You looked back down at the ground. “If you let it, this is gonna keep messing with you. You got to walk past it.” He slid his arms around your shoulders and   
pulled you in against him. Rocking you slightly side to side as he pressed his lips to the top of your head. 

****

Turned out you weren’t going crazy. And it wasn’t just survivor’s guilt that had you seeing Cas everywhere. While you had been in the bathroom washing your face the next morning (listening to the overseas cases Sam had found that were similar to the local ones) Cas had shown up behind you. All dirt and scraggly beard. 

“Unbelievable, man. I-I cannot believe it. You're actually here,” Sam said. He was sitting across the table from Cas with Dean by his side. You were leaning against the kitchenette.  
Cas leaned his forearms on his knees, his eyes switching between the ground and your face. You could see, clear as day, that he wasn’t the same Cas you’d seen in the mental institute. He was your Cassie. The one that had helped you all those years ago. The one from Purgatory.

“Yeah,” he said, “I've been trying to reach out, but for whatever reason, I wasn't at full power. So I couldn't connect with you.”

Sam looked at you. “That must have been why you kept seeing him. I mean, you think?”

You took a deep breath and pushed off the kitchenette. “Yeah. Yeah, uh, I got to be honest. I-I-I'm thinking, how the hell did you make it out? I mean, I – I was there. I-I-I know that place. I know how we had to scratch and claw and kill and bleed to find that portal and make it through it, and it almost finished me and Dean. So, uh... so how exactly are you sitting here with us right now?”

Cas stared up at you a moment. He looked sad or lost or … something. It was like his eyes pleaded at you but you didn’t know what to give him. You weren’t sure he even knew   
what he wanted. 

He leaned back suddenly and the spell was broken. “Y/N, everything you just said is completely true. And that’s the strange part. I … have no idea. I remember endlessly running and hiding from Leviathan, and then I was on the side of the road in Illinois. And … that was it.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. You wanted to. You wanted it so badly that you almost convinced yourself to just believe what he was telling you. But you couldn’t. 

Dean frowned and stepped forward. You could see the same skepticism that you felt written right across his face. “And that – that was it?” he said 

“Yes.” There was a long pause as Cas and Dean stared each other down. Cas broke the tension first. “I’m dirty.”

“Yeah, well, Purgatory will do that to you,” Dean growled. 

Without another word, Cas stood and headed into the bathroom. You took his seat as Dean stared blankly after him. 

“Dean?” you said. “Are you okay?” 

“Huh?” He turned back to look at you and sighed at the concern he saw on your face. He approached you and pulled you out of your seat by the hand, before you got a chance to grumble at him he sat down in the seat and pulled you down into his lap. 

“You do see something seriously wrong here, right?” he said as he ran a hand up and down your thigh. 

You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged at it lightly. “Of course.”

Sam gave the two of you a confused look, so Dean elaborated. “Sammy, I remember every second of leaving that place. I mean, I remember the – the heat, the stink, the pain, the fear.” He lifted his hand to tap his temple before letting it fall back to your thigh. “I have that whole ugly mess right here, and he says he has no idea how he got out? I – I'm just not buying it.”

Sam frowned and the sound of a tap turning on emitted from the bathroom. “So what, you think he's lying?”

“I think,” you said, “what Dean is trying to say is something else happened. I saw the shape that he was in. I mean, there was no way he was fighting his ass out alone. No way.”

Sam sighed. “All right. So, who... or what got him out?’

“Exactly.”

At that moment, Cas exited the bathroom, freshly shaven, wearing a new suit and tie under his suddenly clean trench coat. You had no idea how angel mojo worked, but you sure as hell wanted some.

Cas spread his arms wide and smiled. “Better?”

You felt a smile curl the corners of your lips as you nodded. For a split moment you didn’t care how he got out, it was just good to have him back – but only for a split moment.

****

You were sitting at the table with Sam’s laptop when Dean walked through the front door with a six pack. Sam sat across from you reading the missing person reports. His legs were stretched out so he could hook his feet into the rungs of your chair. It was the kind of thing you read about in bad erotica novels. The hunky, thinly veiled misogynist would hook his feet into the rungs of the chair the dainty, Mary Sue sat in so everyone in the [enter pretentious eating joint here] would know that she belonged to him.

It was cliché. Probably rooted in the history of patriarchy and the ownership of women, and it made you all warm and fuzzy inside. Women could preach otherwise all they want, but sometimes the right kind of thinly veiled misogyny is kind of hot. 

“Y/N?” 

You jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice, realising that you’d been day dreaming about misogynistic hunks and the many things they could do with their hands. 

You turned to look at Dean and he gave you a wry smile. “You wanna stop eye-banging the crap out of Sam for a moment and talk to me?”

Sam looked up from the files and gave you a saucy wink and smile. You gave him a mock glare before looking back at Dean and asking what he wanted.

“I asked what the latest was,” he said as he pulled a can out of the six pack and opened it.

“Oh, um …” You turned back to the laptop. “Nothing. It's like it all stopped. No freak disappearances linked to any freak natural events.”

Dean set his beer down on the table next to the laptop and leaned over your shoulder. “So how many have we got, seven?”

“Yeah, uh, Luigi, Justin, Aaron, Maria –”

“Maria, Dennis, Krista, Sven.” You looked over at Cas in shock. He just sighed and slumped further into the chair he had placed in front of the TV. “I missed television,” he said.

“Wait,” Sam said. “Cas, how did you know those are the names?”

Cas glanced at him before being sucked back into the TV again. “Well, they're prophets.”

“Prophets?” Dean said.

“Yeah, angels instinctively know the names of every prophet – past, present, and future.”

“So this list is the name of every one of 'em that exists?”

“Yes,” Cas said, “until the next generation is born. Plus Kevin Tran, of course. The other seven are future prophets, since, uh, only one can exist at a time.”

“Uh, how is Kevin a prophet if Chuck is a prophet?” Sam said. You wandered briefly who Chuck was, but gave up thinking about it when you realised Sam and Dean had probably met hundreds of people you didn’t know about. 

Cas shook his head and looked at Sam. “I'm not sure what happened to Chuck, but, um... he must be dead.”

Sam swallowed but said nothing. It had gotten to the point where he didn’t even blink at hearing someone had died. 

“So, the next one comes off the bench if Kevin goes down?” You said after a long look at Sam. 

“Exactly. And they have no idea who they are, of course.”

“Crowley,” Sam growled.

“Insurance,” Dean said. “Guess your boyfriends getting desperate.” You didn’t know he was talking to you until he walked back to the kitchenette and levelled you with a stare similar to the one Sam was giving you.

“Oh, come on guys. I have no control over what Crowley does,” you said. 

“But you could,” Dean said.

“I really can’t. I think you both overestimate how much he likes me. We have history, sure, but the moment I become an inconvenience, that’s it. I’m on the same shit list as the rest of you, and believe me, he won’t hesitate to snap my spine.”

“I’m inclined to agree with Sam and Dean,” Cas said, his attention focused back on the TV.

“What the hell, Cas? Since when did you stop being on my side?”

He frowned and look at you. “I still am. And I always will be.” He sounded sincere enough that you didn’t pester him further. 

You looked at the brother’s again. “How are we even sure that this is Crowley?”

Sam gestured to his laptop. “Explains all the weird phenomena. Lower-level demons nabbing heavy-duty cargo.” He sighed. “The vessels of God's Word – boom.”

Cas turned off the TV and stood suddenly, coming to stand by your side. He looked down at you. “I get the feeling something's going on.” 

You stood up with a concerned look to ask him if everything was alright, but Sam’s phone rung a second before you opened your mouth.

“Hello,” he said. “Mrs. Tran? Well, where the hell have you... What?” he stood up quickly and pulled his phone away from his ear long enough to tell the three of you that Crowley   
had Kevin.

****

The four of you sat in the Impala at mile marker 96 waiting for Mrs Tran to show up. Dean was getting impatient and Sam was trying to tell him to relax. You, on the other hand, were too busy going over your last moments in Purgatory. 

It had gotten hotter the closer to the portal you came. It shimmered with a moving blue light, and you could feel the pull of it. You could feel it begging you to step through. You just had two Leviathan standing in your way. The three of you had taken a beating, and you’d made a mental note to tell Benny all about it when you got him back home. He loved a good battle story. 

The leviathan were down in minutes, and your next problem had been getting Cas through the portal. Dean had gone through first to make sure the other side was clear. All you’d had to do was drag Cas through the portal. 

You did everything you could. You swear you did. But you just couldn’t pull him through, and you could still remember what it sounded like when he screamed your name. You didn’t know what happened, and you needed the answers. 

“Cassie, can I talk to you outside?” The gruffness of your voice had him following you out of the car without question. 

“What?” he asked once the two of you were far enough away that neither of the brothers would hear you.

“Exactly,” you said. “What? What the hell happened?” He frowned in confusion. “Back there. Purgatory. I told you I would get you out. We were there! It was like you just gave up. It's like you didn't believe we could do it. I mean, you kept saying that you didn't think it would work. Did you not trust me?”

“Y/N …”

“I did everything I could to get you out – everything!” He squinted at you as he watched the turmoil in your face. “I did not leave you,” you said with a broken voice.

“So you think this was your fault?”

Your heart constricted in your chest and you suddenly found it very hard to breath. Just then, a car pulled up beside the Impala. Sam and Dean pulled themselves out of the car   
just as Mrs Tran climbs out of hers.

“You can do this, can't you?” she panted as she rushed to the boot of her car with a notebook in hand. “You can get him back?”

“How did Crowley find you?” Dean said.

“Oh, I hired a witch, and she ratted us out,” she said as if she were only telling you the time.

“A witch?” Sam said. “Why'd you hire a witch?” 

“To make demon bombs, of course! These are Kevin's notes.” She passed the notebook over to you. You flicked through it quickly before passing it to Sam and turning your   
attention back to Mrs Tran.

“You have any idea where Crowley took him?” you said.

“No. But, uh...” She unlocked the boot of her car and lifted it. “...this guy might.” Inside sat a man that you could only assume was a demon if the black suit and demon trap were   
anything to go by.

“Oh,” Dean said. “Let's talk.”

****

Atlantic, Iowa is where the demon sent you. You were in the passenger seat of the Impala with Dean as you pulled up outside the factory Crowley was supposed to be hiding in. A   
privilege you only got because Sam was in Mrs Tran’s car behind you. 

Once the cars stopped, you climbed out and went to Mrs Tran’s boot to talk to the demon again. You could hear Mrs Tran carrying on in the front seat of her car as Sam handcuffed her to the steering wheel.

You pulled the demon blade from its sheath and opened the boot. “Hey, black eyes, is this it?” The demon blinked up at you as you jerked your head towards the factory. 

He gave it a long look before flicking his eyes back to you. “Yes.”

“Beautiful.” The blade was buried in his chest without warning. You didn’t even blink when he screamed in pain as he died.

****

Cutting through the defensive line of demons outside the factory had been easy. Even breaking into the factory, taking down the barrage of demons in there and freeing the missing people had been easy (or as easy as it can be in your line of work). You know what tripped you up? A locked door. Neither your nor Dean could pick the lock.   
Eventually, against your advice, Cas materialised inside the room you were trying to enter. The room with Crowley and Kevin. You and Dean reluctantly stood by at first. But then the noise and yelling started, and there was a crash. That was all it took before Dean was throwing his shoulder into the door and forcing the it open, only to find that you’d both missed the fun, Kevin was missing a finger and only half the tablet was there. 

****

Dean and Sam were talking with Kevin and Mrs Tran outside of the factory. Kevin was leaning against his mum’s car while she fussed over him and wiped the blood from his face with a cloth. Garth had agreed to take them in and make sure they didn’t go off on their own again. 

While Sam and Dean broke that news to them, you packed up the weapons into the boot of the Impala. Cas was standing next to you.

“That was a stupid move back there, Cassie. You could have gotten yourself killed. Why didn't you wait for us?”

“Well,” he said, “I didn't get killed. And it worked.”

“And if it didn't?” you snapped as you slammed the boot shut and turned to him with a scowl.

“It would have been my problem.”

You dragged your bottom lip through your teeth and said. “Well, that's not the way I see it.”

He took a step towards you. “Hey, everything isn't your responsibility. Getting me out of Purgatory wasn't your responsibility.”

“You didn't get out. So whose fault was it?”

“It's not about fault. It's about will.” He tilted his head and frowned. “Y/N, do you really not remember?”

You gave a short laugh. “I lived it, Cassie. I know what happened.”

His stare became pitying and that pissed you off even more. “No. No, you think you know. You remembered it the way you needed to.”

You took an angry step towards him and growled, “Look, I don't need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing that I care   
about! I don't need it!”

He sighed and lifted his hand to press his fingers to your forehead. You pulled back. “Y/N, just look at it. Really look at it.” He went to touch your forehead again and this time you   
let him.

You were by the same portal again. It was still just as hot. The Leviathans were down for the count and you were crawling over a pile of rocks to drag yourself into the portal. You had cuts all over your hands from them, but once you got there you reached back for Cas and clasped his hand in yours. 

He called out your name and you waited for the part where he slipped out of your grip and you left him. It didn’t happen. Instead, Cas called your name again and forced your hand away from him. He told you to go before he pulled back entirely and let the portal suck you away. 

The scene disappeared and suddenly you were back in front of Cas, his hand was back at his side. 

“See,” he said, “it wasn't that I was weak. I was stronger than you. I pulled away. Nothing you could have done would have saved me, because I didn't want to be saved.”

You shook your head and frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“It's where I belonged. I needed to do penance. After the things I did on earth and in heaven, I didn't deserve to be out. And I saw that clearly when I was there. I... I planned to stay all along. I just didn't know how to tell you. You can't save everyone, Y/N... though, you try.”

“Hey,” Sam said as he approached the two of you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Cas said as he looked at you. “Just, uh... setting a few things straight.”

Sam nodded. “Good. Garth is gonna lay low with the Trans. We’ve got one half of the tablet, but we have to find Crowley and track down the other piece. You're with us on this one, right, Cas?”

The two of you looked at him when he didn’t answer. He was staring intently over your shoulder. You frowned. “Cas, you okay?”

He seemed to reanimate in front of you and shook his head. “I'm – I'm fine. And, yes, I'm with you – if that's all right.”

You nodded and Cas left the two of you to talk to Dean and fix Kevin’s fingers. 

“It is, right?” Sam said once Cas was out of ear shot. “You two are good?”

You looked down at the ground and nodded, replaying what Cas had shown you over and over again in your head. You hadn’t failed him. He’d wanted to stay in Purgatory. It should have made you feel better. So why didn’t it?


	18. Nightmare Heroics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the boys (along with Cas) pick up a case in a town where crimes seem to play by cartoon rules. The Winchester's realise quick that they have to play by those rules too when their hearts try to leap out of their chest at the mere sight of you. You, however, have your own set of problems dealing with Cas and the guilt he feels over massacring angels and abandoning you as a child.

You sat on the boot of the Impala, feet resting on the bumper either side of the gas pump that was wedged into the opening of the gas tank. You were on the phone to Mrs Tran, trying to hold in your giggles as Sam ravaged your neck with his mouth. 

You made noises of affirmation when you needed to, but mostly you couldn’t listen to what she was saying. Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan as Sam bit your neck. He chuckled against your skin when you slapped at his side in warning. 

You sagged in relief when you noticed Dean walking out of the Gas n’ Sip with two beers.

“You know what, Mrs Tran?” you said suddenly, cutting her off when Dean stopped by the two of you. “Uh, Dean’s here. He really wants to talk to you.”

Sam looked up when he heard his brother’s name, and smiled as Dean took your mobile with a sour look. 

Dean put the phone to his ear and said, “Mrs Tran, yeah, hi, uh –” He hung up before finishing and tossed the phone back to you. “Tunnel. What’s going on in Tran-land, anyway?”

“Well, from what I could gather,” you gave Sam a pointed look and he smiled, “Garth finally got them to his houseboat, but Kevin's having a lot of trouble reading their half of the tablet. So far, bits and pieces. Nothing about boarding up Hell.”

“Garth has a safe-houseboat?” Dean said.

You smiled and shook your head. “Dude, I don't even ask questions anymore.”

Dean shrugged and, after giving Sam his beer, made his way over to where Cas was leaning against the bonnet of the Impala reading a newspaper. 

Sam knelt between your legs and pulled the gas pump out, leaving a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh before standing up and putting the pump back on the rack. 

“You are so rowdy today,” you laughed as he stood back between your thighs and left another hickey on your neck.

“Just trying to make up for lost time,” he mumbled.

You pushed at his chest so he would look at you and gave him a soft smile. “I know. But you think you can wait another night or two? Dean’s been …”

Sam sighed but gave you an understanding nod. “Cautious? Yeah, I know.”

You shrugged not entirely sure you agreed with his choice of words. “Well …”

“That’s what it is, Y/N. Trust me. I was the same when you agreed to give us another shot. He doesn’t want to screw things up again after what happened when you left. So … he   
walks on egg shells.”

You sighed. “That makes me sound like a bitch, Sam.”

He let out a short laugh. “You’re not, I promise. It has more to do with our anxiety over messing everything up than it does with anything you do. In fact,” Sam gave you an adoring   
look and cupped your face in his hands, “you make it easier on us. I mean, like I said, I was in Dean’s boat. But after I saw how … honest and understanding you tried to be …” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I just don’t stress over messing things up with you now. To an extent, obviously. I guess what I’m trying to say is that if we screw up, I know you’ll give us a fair trial and then leave it in the past once it’s been worked out. And that’s … that just makes me feel so … calm. I mean, I know –”

You cut him off with a long kiss. He let out a sigh of longing when you pulled away and you smiled as you tugged at his flannel. “Thank you, Sam.”

“For what?” he breathed.

You gave him a half shrug and looked up at him. “For appreciating me. I know things got a little rocky for a bit, but once you knew how I felt … you’ve really tried to make things right. And I really appreciate that. It means a lot that you listened to what bothered me and then tried to fix it.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I would do anything for you, Y/N. I mean it, anything.”

You pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand, and for once you didn’t feel guilty over the things you were willing to do for him and Dean. You thought that maybe they might be just as ruthless as you. 

“Hey, lovebirds,” Dean called. You turned to look at him and he held up a newspaper. “We got a case. Oh, and, uh, Cas is a hunter now. So, there’s that.” 

You and Sam grinned. “Really?” you said.

Cas smiled at you. “Yes. I can be your fourth wheel.”

“You know –”

“Don’t bother,” Dean said. “I already tried explaining it.” He patted the top of the Impala affectionately. “Let’s go.”

You jumped off the boot of the car as Sam and Dean went to their prospective sides. 

“Can I, uh, ride in the front seat?” Cas said.

“No,” Sam and Dean simultaneously said as Sam shouldered him out of the way and slid into the car.

You gave Cas a sympathetic smile and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry Cassie, I’m screwing them, and not even I get to ride in the front seat most of the time.”

Cas gave you a horrified look. “What exactly do you have to do to get into the front seat?”

****

The coroner was in the back of the morgue washing down utensils while the four of you stood around a body and spoke with the local detective. The body was lying on a metal   
table covered with a sheet.

“Coroner said his heart was ejected from his body,” the detective said. “Got some air, too. Found it in a sandbox.” 

“Any idea what happened, Detective?” Sam said.

“A lot of people are thinking drugs, Agent Nash – an assload of drugs.”

Castiel leaned in close to you. Far too close for the detective not to notice. “There are no narcotics in that man's system. His molecules are all wrong,” he whispered.

You nodded and waved him back as Sam said, “But you don't think that, huh?”

The detective shrugged and pulled back the sheet to reveal a man – Gary – with a cookie-cutter heart-shaped hole in his chest. “Never seen an eight ball do that.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “And who called this in?”

“Friend of his named Olivia Kopple. She saw the whole thing.” She pulled the sheet back over the body just as her phone rings. “Oh,” she said as she pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. “Ah, crap. I have – I have to take this. Here's everything we got.” She handed you the file. “Knock yourself out.”

You thanked her and opened it up, going straight to Olivia’s statement. 

Dean handed her a card before she walked out. “Listen, you see anything weird, anything out of the box, you give us a call.”

She took the card and gave him a wry smile. “Whatever you say, Scully.”

Once she left, Dean (looking offended at her comment) and Cas took her place beside the body. 

“I can't sense any EMF or sulfur,” Cas said. “Mr. Freling's arterial health is, uh, excellent.” You grimaced as he leaned over and sniffed the body. “Mm. He did recently suffer from a...mild, uh...” He sniffed again. “What is that? Bladder infection.”

“Cas, stop smelling the dead guy,” Dean growled.

“Why? Now I know everything about this man. So we can –”

“Do you know he was having an affair?” you said. 

Cas gave you a shocked look. “What?”

“Strike one, Sherlock,” Dean said as he gave you a proud smile.

You looked back down at the file. “According to Olivia, they would meet at the park every Thursday at 12:45, walk to the Moonlight diner, where she always ordered a Caesar salad, dressing on the side. They would chat about everything, and she'd be back on the road by 1:30.” You closed the file.

“You don't think she's telling the truth,” Cas said.

“Too much detail. Sounds rehearsed,” Sam said.

“Plus,” you continued, “we drove past the Moonlight diner on the way into town. It's attached to the Moonlight motel.”

“Okay,” Dean said, “well, let's say that, uh, Gary here's on the prowl, but he's playing it safe because...” he lifted the sheet slightly and lifted Gary’s arm with a triumphant laugh to show everyone the wedding ring, “dude's married. Doesn't want anyone to see his ride parked out in front of a by-the-hour fleabag.”

“So he stashes his car at the park across the street, meets Olivia there,” Sam said.

“His wife probably found out about it, and it broke her heart.”

“So she breaks his,” you said. “Sounds witchy.”

“Yes, it does. Guy was living a lie, and it came back to bite him in the ticker.” Dean turned to Cas and patted him on the shoulder. “But nice job on the bladder infection.”

****

Mrs Freling sat at her dining table dressed in black with a box of tissues. “I – I don't understand,” she said with a sniff. “Gary had a heart attack. Why would the FBI –”

“The parks are government property,” Dean said. “We just got a few questions for you.”

Castiel stepped forward and gave Dean a – what you could only describe as – secretive look. “I'll, uh... I'll handle this. I've done research. I can crack her.” He turned back to Mrs   
Freling and placed a hand on the table so he could lean over her. “Now, Ms. Freling, I don't want to bother you. I – I really don't. But I – I do have just one question for you.” He slammed his hand down on the table and yelled, “Why did you kill your husband?!”

You jumped, Mrs Freling all but went into hysterics and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Agent Stills,” Dean said. “A word, please.”

“What?” Cas said once he and Dean were out of ear shot. “I was being bad cop.”

“No, you were being bad everything.” He gestured to you as you went to sit at the table across from Mrs Freling. “Listen to Y/N.”

You gave the woman a sympathetic smile and said. “Please, forgive my partner. He's, uh – he's going through some stuff. What he was trying to ask is – is there anyway Gary might have had secrets – something he was hiding?”

Mrs Freling shook her head. “Hiding? Like what?”

Before you got a chance to answer, there was a knock at the front door and someone let themselves in. “Deb?” they called out. 

Mrs Freling stood from the table and you followed as she went to welcome the woman that had just entered the dining room carrying a casserole.

“Olivia,” Mrs Freling said. She hugged the woman and they both began crying. 

“As in mistress Olivia?” Dean said behind you. 

“This is awkward,” Cas said.

With an arm around Olivia, Mrs Freling turned to the four of you and said, “I'm sorry. W-what did you think Gary was hiding?”

Before you, Sam or Dean could stop him, Cas pointed at Olivia and said, “That he was sleeping with her.”

You closed your eyes for a moment in dread as Olivia and Mrs Freling shifted uncomfortably.

“I know,” Mrs Freling said.

Your eyes snapped open and Sam said, “You know?”

She nodded. “Gary and I – we... had an arrangement. He was seeing Olivia, and I was spending some time with our neighbour P.J.”

When you all did nothing but stand there slack-jawed, Olivia turned to Mrs Freling and gestured to the casserole still in her hands. “I'll, uh – I'll put this in the kitchen.”

“I'll help,” Mrs Freling said.

The moment the two of them left the room, you turned to the boys with a smile. “Frigging suburbs, man.”

“So she's not a witch,” Cas said.

You scoffed. “Just the best wife ever.” Sam breathed out a laugh and Dean rolled his eyes at you.

“Then what killed her husband?”

“Who gives a shit?”

****

You watched Sam as anxiety churned in your gut. He was leaning over the side of the building, looking all the way down to the street to see the man that was now mince-meat on the ground. You wanted to run over there and pull him away from the edge. You probably would have if the detective hadn’t been standing right in front of you and Dean.   
You let out a sigh of relief when he stepped away from the edge and joined the two of you. You spared a glance for Cas to make sure he hadn’t gone any closer to the edge than he already was. 

“Looks like suicide,” Sam said. 

“It was,” the detective said. “Guy left a note. He invested everything in Roman Industries and lost it all when they crashed and burned last year.”

“So why call us?” Dean said.

“Because I have two witnesses who swear that Madoff here floated in mid-air for a good 10 seconds, then he looked down and splat. Not sure I buy that, but the way they're talking, it sounds like something straight out of a –”

“Cartoon.”

The detective shrugged. “You said you wanted weird.” 

Dean thanked her and she left the three of you to attend to the other offices on the roof. Cas chose that moment to join you.

“She's right, you know,” Dean said. “I mean, the whole heart jumping out of the guy's chest, the – the – the delayed fall – that's straight-up Bugs Bunny.”

“So we're looking for some sort of insect-rabbit hybrid?” Cas said. “How do we kill it?”

“No, we don't, Cas,” Sam laughed. “That's a character, like, uh – like Woody Woodpecker or Daffy Duck.”

“They're little, animated movies,” you said with a smile. “You know, uh, the coyote chases a roadrunner, and then the – the anvil gets dropped on his head.” You laughed. 

“Is it supposed to be funny?” Cas said with a frown.

You let the smile fall from your face. “No. It's hilarious.”

****

Cas was glued to the TV back at the motel, watching the loony toons that you and Dean had told him about. Sam and Dean were sat at the table opposite each other going through   
police files and lore. And you … well, you’d crashed. 

You’d been going well for the past few weeks, but when you’d had trouble getting out of bed that morning you’d had a feeling you were going to hit a low point at some point in the day. You just felt so tired. You just wanted to crawl into a fort of blankets and not wake up.

It had hit you the moment you’d left the roof of that building. You didn’t say anything right away. The boys were trying to work a case and you didn’t want to bother them. But, in true Winchester form, they’d noticed on the car ride to the motel.

Dean had pulled the car over and Sam told Cas to get in the front seat while he slid into the back with you. At first, you’d thought Cas was none the wiser to what was going on, but when he shot you a guilty look from the front seat you could see he knew more than he let on. Before you got a chance to say anything to Cas, Sam was leaning back against the door and pulling you in against him so he could wrap himself around you. 

You drifted off to sleep too quickly and awoke even quicker to Dean pulling you out of the car. 

You’d wiped at your eyes and let out a grumble as Dean pulled you in against him and slipped his hands under your thighs. 

“It’s alright, baby,” he murmured. “Just wrap your arms around me and go back to sleep.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled your thighs around his waist and lifted you out of the car. You must have dozed off for a few more seconds because suddenly Dean was kicking the door shut behind him. You expected him to take you to one of the beds, but he made a beeline straight to the table and plunked down in one of the seats with you still straddling his lap and your head still resting on his shoulder. 

You knew once the TV switched on and Sam and Dean started talking about the case you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, but when you moved to get out of Dean’s lap, he held you in place with a hand on your hip. 

“Stay. I want to hold you a while,” he whispered in your ear. And even though his words were true, you knew he’d said it for your benefit.

Neither Sam nor Dean said a word about your mood. They didn’t ask if you were okay. They didn’t ask why you were down and tired. They only did what they knew how – they held you and waited for it to pass. 

You couldn’t have asked for a better solution. Not for the first time, you wondered what you would have done had you chosen to permanently leave the two men that knew you best. 

You snapped out of those morbid thoughts when Dean ran a solid hand up and down your back and tapped his hand against the journal in front of him.

“I got no idea what we're hunting,” he said. “Maybe it's a Tulpa. Maybe it's some – some crazy god who watched too much Robot Chicken. I – I – I mean, is there a link between Heartbreak Hotel and Free Fallin’?”

“Not that I can find,” Sam said as Cas switched off the TV with a laugh. 

“I understand,” Cas said. “The bird represents God. And coyote is man, endlessly chasing the divine, yet never able to catch him.” You lifted your head from Dean’s shoulder and looked at him. “It’s … it’s hilarious."

There was a moment of silence as everyone looked at him before Dean closed the journal in front of him and sighed. “All right, well, I'm gonna call it.” He tucked his hands under your thighs again and prepared to pick you up. “Come on, sweetheart. You can sleep with me tonight. Cas, you gonna book a room or what?”

“No, I'll stay here,” Cas said. Dean paused what he was doing and you suddenly felt a little more awake.

“Oh, okay,” you said. “Yeah. We'll have a slumber party, braid Sam's hair. Where are you gonna sleep?”

“I don't sleep.”

You sighed and rubbed at your face. Tears pricked the back of your eyes and you knew it was the stupidest thing in the world. 

“Okay,” you said calmly with a swallow. “Well, I need to go to sleep and not wake up for the better part of an eternity, so …”

“I'll watch over you.”

Dean let out a dry laugh. “That's not gonna happen.”

Cas stood suddenly with his fingers pressed to his temple. “Something's coming across the police band,” he said.

“Wait, you can hear that?” Sam said.

“It's all waves. A bank has been robbed. It sounds loony.”

You groaned. “Define loony.”

****

In an act of mercy, Dean didn’t make you go to the bank, he instead let you curl up in his bed. In an act of love, he stayed with you, assuring Sam and Cas that they could handle it on their own. 

The two of you laid facing each other with your legs tangled. Your head rested on his bicep and you watched him as his eyes studied your face and he brushed his fingers across your temple and into your hair, over and over again. 

“Can you explain it to me?” he murmured.

“Explain what?” you said.

“What happened with you today. Can you explain it? I want to try and understand.”

You dragged your bottom lip through your teeth and dropped your eyes to his bare collarbone as you thought how best to explain it. 

“I’m not sure how,” you said, “but I can try.” You took a deep breath and looked up at him when you thought of something. “Think of it like the Impala.” Dean nodded. “She’s got a full tank of gas, she’s cruising down the highway at a steady pace when a rock flies up from under the wheel and puts a hole in her tank. And suddenly … after a short while … she starts to slow down. She maybe makes some funny noises …” Dean frowns at you and you laugh. “Shut up, I don’t know anything about cars.” He smiles back and nods for you to continue, his fingers never ceasing their strokes against your temple. “Anyway, so, uh … the Impala, she slows down and eventually comes to a stop. No matter how much you turn the key. No matter how much you curse and yell and kick the wheels, she’s not gonna start ‘cause there’s nothing in her tank. You know?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I, uh … I think I get it. That makes sense, actually. And, just for the record, I would never kick Baby.” 

You let out a soft laugh and gave him a light shove in the shoulder. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you to pull you in closer. 

“So what we did today – me and Sam – that was okay? That helped?” he said.

“It was perfect,” you said. You lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I mean, you can never stop those moods when they’re happening. Sometimes you can’t even prevent them. But knowing that the people who love you are going to be there no matter what … it – it just makes it a little easier to bear.”

Dean pulled your head against his chest and kissed the top of it. The two of you laid there for a good five minutes of comfortable silence before you spoke again.

“It’s not always going to be this easy,” you said. “Sometimes it’s going to be really hard. Sometimes … I’m going to be an inconvenience, and you’re going to wonder why –”

“Hey,” Dean growled as he pulled back to look down at you. “Don’t say that. Not ever. I don’t care how hard it gets, hell, my entire life has been one hardship after another. Now, I can’t say I won’t get angry or frustrated sometimes … God knows I’ve never been known for being patient. But, Y/N, you gotta know … not once – not ever – will I think you’re an inconvenience. Okay?”

You nodded quickly. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

He went to pull you back in against him but you stopped him by saying, “This isn’t a one-way street, you know?”

“What isn’t?”

You lifted your shoulder in another half shrug. “I know that you and Sammy … you guys run out of gas sometimes too. And – and I know you don’t like to talk about it … but I want you to know that you can with me. I won’t even say anything. I won’t try and give you advice, I’ll just listen if you want. And I won’t tell Sam what you say. I won’t even tell you what Sam says. I just –”

“I love you,” Dean said suddenly. And though he’d said it a few times before, he seemed shocked by the admission. Like he was only just realising the meaning of the words. “I love you … I mean, I get it now. I – get why you’re the one. You’re it, you know? I’m not sure that I really understood it before but you’re the one. If I … if ever there was someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with … you would be it. And – and if my life had gone differently … or I’d wanted a family and picket fence like Sammy … I mean, I get why he wants to take you with him. You’re it. You’re the dream girl. The – the wife and the best friend that guys always look for and – and – and I don’t – I can’t …” he trailed off helplessly and begged you with his eyes to understand what he was trying to say. 

With tears in your eyes, you kissed him to show him that you did understand. When you finally pulled back, he cupped your jaw in his hand and dragged his thumb across your cheek. “My mum … she would’ve – she would’ve loved you, you know?”

You gave him a soft smile and traced your fingers against his jaw. “I wish I could have met her.”

He cleared his throat so his voice would sound steady when he replied, “Yeah, me too.”

He pulled you in against him again and tucked your head under his chin so you wouldn’t see the tears that rolled down his cheek. But you knew they were there, so you did what   
Sam and Dean always did for you. You held him and waited for them to pass.

****

You’d managed to get a few hours sleep before Sam and Cas got back. And whilst you weren’t 100 per cent when you woke up, you were climbing up there pretty fast and felt   
ready to deal with anything the case threw at you.

Which was good since Sam and Cas returned with news of an anvil falling from the sky and crushing the security guard at the bank. Not to mention the robber the local cops called the ‘Black Hole’. Apparently, he left nothing behind when he robbed a bank except a pair of painted black circles. 

You’d mentioned that it looked like the guy was playing by cartoon rules. Sam had agreed with an exasperated look at Cas, as though he’d already had that argument with him.

Not long after that, Sam and Dean (after making sure you were most definitely feeling up to being left with Cas) left to see what they could find on the Black Hole, while you tried to dig up some more ‘loony’ cases in town using Sam’s laptop. 

Cas was sitting on one of the beds flipping through John’s journal. 

“They’re father …” he said suddenly. “Beautiful handwriting.”

You looked up at him and eyed him for a moment before saying, “How you feeling, Cassie?”

He glanced at you with a shrug. “I'm fine.”

“Well, I just – I – I know that when...” you sighed, “I got puked out of Purgatory, it took me a few weeks to... find my sea legs.”

Cas nodded without looking up as he flipped over another page. “I'm fine.”

“Don't get me wrong. I'm – I’m happy you're back. I'm – I’m freaking thrilled. It's just this whole mysterious-resurrection thing – from what I hear, it always has one mother of a   
downside.”

He sighed and closed the journal to look at you. “So, what do you want me to do?”

You shrugged. “Maybe take a trip upstairs.”

“To Heaven?”

“Yeah, poke around, see if the God squad can't tell us how you got out.”

“No.” He looked back down at the journal and swallowed.

You scoffed. “Look, man, I – I hate those flying-ass monkeys just as much as you do, but –“

“Y/N,” he snapped. “I said no.”

You paused for a moment to process that Cas had just gotten angry at you. You tried to remember the last time that had happened. You didn’t think it ever had. 

You scratched at your forehead and sighed before closing the laptop and going to sit on the bed opposite Cas.

“Talk to me,” you said.

He shook his head. “Y/N, I...” He sighed and placed the journal to the side, turning his body to face you. “When I was... bad... and I had all those things – the... the leviathans...   
writhing inside me... I caused a lot of suffering on earth, but I devastated Heaven. I vaporized thousands of my own kind, and I – I – I can't go back.”

“'Cause if you do, the angels will kill you.”

“Because if I see what Heaven's become – what I – what I made of it... I'm afraid I might kill myself.”

With that devastating confession left hanging in the air, Sam and Dean walked back through the door of the motel room.

“Hey,” Sam said. “Got something.”

“Good,” Cas said. He stood up and joined the brothers by the table. It took you a few moments longer to do the same. “Excellent. What?”

Dean took one look at your face and came to your side to wrap an arm around your waist. He leant down and pressed a kissed to your temple. “I shouldn’t have left, sorry,” he whispered.

You ran a hand down his back and gave him a reassuring smile. “No, it’s not that. I just … I had a talk with Cassie. I’m worried about him is all.”

Dean nodded in understanding and turned back to Sam when he started talking.

“So this black-hole guy – before he tried the bank, he robbed a house across from the park where Gary blew a gasket,” Sam said as he tapped his fingers against the file in his   
hand.

“So, uh, what – you think the house heist and Gary's corpse are connected?” you said.

“According to the file, they happened at pretty much the exact same time. Here. Check this out.” He pulled a folded up map from the file and spread it out on the table, revealing   
three clusters of X’s marked all over town. “Okay. Here's the house, and Gary died across the street here. And that building from this morning – right there. The black hole hit that, too.”

“Let me guess – where, uh, what's his name took a swan dive.” Sam nodded an affirmative at your comment. “All right. I'll bite. What about the others?”

“Well, those are the places that stuff got stolen. But nobody got dead. Take away the graffiti, and these all look like just normal smash-and-grabs. But I made a few phone calls...” he pulled out a police report and held it out to Cas, “talked to some people who are nearby – neighbours and whatnot – and they reported a whole lot of crazy.”

“Like?”

Sam smiled at you. “Like a jogger bumping his head and sprouting a four-inch lump. Or a kid walking into a wall and hearing birdies. Basically, for 50 yards around each robbery, people were living in a cartoon. But it didn't last long – I mean 5, 10 minutes at each place.”

You nodded and crossed your arms. 

“About the length of time it would take a thief to get in and out,” Cas said.

“Exactly. But whatever power he's using, it's – it's – it’s not targeted. I mean, it's – it's kind of like an area of effect. I mean, picture him in a – in a bubble of weird, and anything   
that touches it gets daffy.”

“So this Animaniac can step through walls, can toss an anvil?” Dean said.

“Yeah, but he'd be warping reality to do it,” you said. “So if someone happens to be nearby meeting the girl of his dreams…”

“His heart makes a break for it.” You raised a hand in agreement. “Okay, so smashing the, uh – the rent-a-cop – that – that was on purpose, but the rest of them – what is that just collateral weird?”

Sam shrugged, “Maybe.”

“So we're looking for a thief,” Cas said.

“And the deposit box he was after. Now, the house, the office – every place he's hit belonged to someone living at the Sunset Fields retirement home.”

“So you think our guy's there,” you said.

“Worth a shot.”

“Alright,” Dean said. “Well, let's gear up. It's wabbit season.”

You and Sam smiled and Cas leaned towards him with a sympathetic look. “I don't think you pronounced that correctly,” he said.

****

Sunset Fields retirement home. Land of the sick and dying. At least that’s how you saw it. 

Sam chuckled as you pressed yourself into the wall with a grimace when an old man wearing a breathing mask waddled on by with his walker.

“Come on,” Sam said to you. “It's not that bad.”

You wiped your hands on your shirt and grimaced again as you looked around. “You can't tell me this joint doesn't give you the heebs and/or jeebs.”

Sam gave you a smile that quickly dropped when he felt his heart suddenly palpitate. He cleared his throat and rubbed his chest, looking to see if either you, Dean or Cas noticed. When it seemed they didn’t, and his heart rate dropped back to normal, Sam forgot about it. Instead, opting to turn his attention to the man approaching the four of you. 

“Hello,” he said. “Can I help you?”

You, Sam and Dean pulled your fake FBI badges out and showed them to him. Sam watched as you gave the man a dazzling smile and had to rub a hand over his chest as his heart   
palpitated again. He looked at Dean and saw him do the same thing. 

Sam had a sudden worrisome thought. 

“Yeah,” you said to the man. “Agent Crosby. FBI.”

“Sorry,” the man said. “I'm Dr. Dwight Mahoney. I run Sunset Fields.”

“We need to question your residents,” Cas said.

“Well... why? About what?”

“Grand larceny, mostly,” Sam said with a smile. 

Dr Mahoney gave a confused look around at his seemingly placid residents – most of whom were playing chest – no doubt wondering how any of them could walk a mile let alone   
pull off a heist. 

“Of course,” he said slowly. “Um, by all means, ask away. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know.”

You thanked him with another smile and he walked off. Once he was out of earshot you said, “Alight let's do this. No flirting, you three.”

Sam breathed out a chuckle and had to press a hand to his chest again. Once Cas left them to follow you like a lost puppy, Sam turned to Dean.

“Tell me I’m not the only one feeling this right now?” Sam said. 

Dean rubbed a hand against his own chest and said, “If you mean is my heart trying to Shawshank it’s way out of my chest right now, then yeah. Yeah, I feel it.”

Sam cursed under his breath. “Okay, uh … just – just don’t look at Y/N, right?”

“Don’t look at her? Do you have any idea how hard that is?” Dean growled. 

“Yeah, Dean, I kinda do. I’ve constantly got an eye on her to make sure she’s okay.”

Dean shrugged and mumbled, “I’m usually checking out her ass.”

Sam’s face-hardened as he looked at his brother. “Just try, Dean. And don’t tell her what’s going on, not until after we’re done here. I don’t want to worry her.”

****

You sat at a table with Cas and an old woman, trying your hardest to stifle the laugh that bubbled up your throat. For the past five minutes, the woman had been making love eyes   
at Cas and calling him Charles.

She sighed once more and cradled her chin in her hands. “You are so pretty, Charles,” she said.

Cas gave you a helpless look but you became too distracted by the young carer that walked by – she filled out her uniform like it was nobody’s business. 

You felt a hand give you a light slap on the back of the head and you gave Dean a sheepish smile as he walked past with a glare and scratch of his chest. 

“That's not my name,” Cas finally said.

“Oh,” the woman said, colour staining her cheeks. “You look so much like my third husband.”

Once again, you stifled your laugh at Cas’s baffled expression and turned to the woman. “We're here to talk about the robbery, ma'am.”

“Robbery?”

You nodded. “The one the police talked to you about a few days ago. Someone broke into your old house and, uh, stole a stack of bearer bonds and, uh, some jewellery that you   
stashed under your floorboards.”

She gave you a bright smile. “Oh, my diamonds, yes. I hid them there.” She turned to Cas with a sympathetic look, “I'm sorry, Charles. I didn't trust you. You were quite the bounder.”

You gave Cas a grin and he ignored you as he leaned across the table towards her and said, “Did you tell anyone where your valuables were, Mrs. Tate?”

She thought for a moment before replying, “I don't think so. But then I get a little fuzzy sometimes.”

“Have you noticed anything strange lately,” you said, “uh, cold spots, smells?”

“Well, there's the cat.” She pointed to the couch behind you and you turned to see a ginger cat lying there. “He talks sometimes. Really hates that mouse.”

You gave Cas a meaningful look and he nodded. “I'll interrogate the cat.” That wasn’t what your look had meant at all, but you rolled with it. 

After a short while of talking to more barely-there grandparents, you joined Sam and Dean where they stood by a wall of pictures talking amongst themselves.

“What’s up? Find anything?” you said. They both glanced at you and grimaced before turning their eyes away. You were taken aback by their sudden dismissal of you. “Well gee, guys. I know I had a tough time sleeping last night, but I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

“It’s not that,” Dean said softly as he looked at you.

“Dean,” Sam snapped. Dean looked away from you and snapped his mouth shut. “Look, we just found out that we know one of the residents here. His name is Fred Jones and he’s psychokinetic. We think he’s our guy.”

After wrangling Cas (who insisted he’d almost cracked the cat) they turned to walk down the hall towards the rooms. Sam stopped after a few steps and turned to face you. Well … his body was facing you, but his eyes were trained on the ceiling above your head. “You look really beautiful, by the way. Like, all the time. Even when you’ve had a rough night.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the slight curl of your lips. “Come on, Romeo.”

As you passed him you slipped your hand under his shirt and dragged your nails lightly across his lower abdomen. You smiled as he shivered under your touch and squeezed his eyes shut.

Once you left, Sam let out the breath he’d been holding and dropped his chin to his chest. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered to himself as he pressed his palm over his heart to calm it. “You’re literally going to be the death of me, woman.”

****

Fred was sitting in a wheelchair watching cartoons when the four of you entered his room.

“Mr Jones?” Sam said. “Hey, it’s, uh, Sam Winchester.” He knelt down beside Fred and you smiled at how calm and gentle his voice was. Sam was a big, intimidating man there was no doubt about it. But he was also the kindest man you knew. ‘Course, with all the people you did know the bar wasn’t really all that high. 

“Fred?” Dean said when the man didn’t answer Sam. Dean, always the impatient one, sighed in irritation and switched off the TV before clapping his hands in front of Fred’s face. “Fred! Hey!” Fred only stared at the TV as though it hadn’t just been switched off. 

“So, you really think this one man is causing all of these … shenanigans?” Cas said.

“Well,” Dean said, “if he is, he’d be surrounded by a circle of crazy, right? Well … he is.”

You frowned. “How do you know that?” 

Dean turned to you and said, “Look at me.”

“Dean,” Sam warned.

“I’ll be fine Sam.” Dean took your hands in his. “Besides, I’d rather not hit myself in the face with a book to prove my point.” Sam sighed but said nothing more. 

“What’s going on, Dean?” you said.

“Shh, sweetheart.” Dean lifted one of your hands and placed it over his heart. “Just listen.” 

You did as you were told while Dean stood there staring at you. The longer he stared at you, the more adoring and loving his expression became, and the louder his heart   
sounded.

That wasn’t right. You shouldn’t have been able to hear his heart so clearly, but there it was, thumping under your hand. There was a soft crack and Dean grunted in pain.

“Oh my God, Dean,” you cried out as you turned him to look away from. “You asshole. Why would you do that to me?” 

You saw his shoulders lift in a shrug. “Thought it would be romantic?” 

“Romantic? Of course it’s not … okay, yeah it kinda is … but still! You could have died.”

Dean wisely kept his mouth shut and you rounded on Sam who looked to the ceiling the moment you turned. “You too?” you groaned. “Is this why you guys were acting weird   
before?”

“Uh-huh,” he replied. 

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, how is this even happening?”

Sam shrugged. “Fred’s got juice. I mean, an average psychokinetic can move things with his mind, but a guy like Fred – you get him worked up, he can reshape reality.”

“Alright,” Dean said, “so where’s his off switch?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even certain he knows we’re here.” 

“Do we … kill him?” Cas said.

“Excuse me.” You jumped at the sound of Dr Mahoney’s voice and turned to see him by the doorway with an orderly. “Did he just threaten to murder one of my patients?”

****

“Real freaking smooth,” Dean growled as the four of you stormed through the swinging doors that led to the buildings front entrance.

“Well, we don't have to leave him,” Cas said. “I could teleport him.”

“Fred's radioactive, Cas,” Sam said. “You zap him – no telling what will happen.”

Cas dropped his chin to his chest as the brother’s stormed ahead in front of you and him. You put a hand on his arm and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Cassie. This hunter thing is tough to get used too.”

He gave you a guilty look. “I understand. I just want to get something right. Just once.”

You thought for a moment and gave him a bright smile. “You helped me when I was a little girl. You got that right, Cassie.”

He stopped and faced you. “But I didn’t,” he said desperately. “Crowley had to step in and do what I couldn’t. And after that … I just abandoned you. I didn’t help you afterwards. I thought you would be okay, but you weren’t. I realised that last night. I’m sorry.”

You took a deep breath to fight down the automatic anger that bubbled up. You tried not to blame Cas for that. You knew it wasn’t his fault, but sometimes the wounds felt fresh, and he was the only one that you could put the blame on.

“Look,” you said when you were certain you could stay calm, “we can talk about that later, okay? I promise. But right now, let’s just focus on this case.” When he nodded, you continued. “Now, me and the boys – we’re gonna circle back tonight, get Fred nice and clean. You go Invisible Girl and keep an eye on him. You hear me?”  
He gave you a small smile and a determined nod then disappeared before your eyes. 

****

You hadn’t been gone an hour before Cas left you a very confusing message about exploding cake and an urgent need for you. You were all but legging it back down the hall of the retirement home with Dean hot on your heels – Sam had gone to Fred’s room to check on him. You came to a stop by Cas’s side in the open space that you’d been interviewing residents in earlier. 

“Oh. You got my message. Good,” Cas said.

“Yeah,” you breathed out as you surveyed the smattering of cake that covered the walls and many of the residents. Mrs Tate was being wiped down by the carer Dean had caught you checking out earlier. You didn’t make that mistake again.

“What the hell happened?” Dean said.

“There was a pastry mishap,” Cas replied.

“Okay, and?”

“And the frosting reached near-supersonic speeds. I thought –“

“Hey,” Sam growled, rushing up to the three of you. “Fred’s gone.”

Cas gave Sam a confused frown and Dean lifted his hands in exasperation. 

“Oh, fan-freaking-tastic,” Dean said. He gave Cas an annoyed look. “Way to take your eye off the ball.”

“Dean,” you snapped. 

He gave you a look next, annoyed that you were taking Cas’s side over his. Before he got a chance to argue, the carer who’d been wiping down Mrs Tate walked by with the older woman in the wheelchair she was pushing. 

“You're not supposed to be here,” she said when she spotted the four of you.

“Well, trust me, sweetheart, you got bigger fish,” Dean growled with a hard look in her direction. You weren’t sure if it was because he was pissed or jealous of the attention you’d given her earlier. 

The carer rolled her eyes, but before she could continue on her way, Mrs Tate took off the breathing mask she was wearing and pointed at her whilst giving Cas an urgent look. “Charles, she's wearing my diamonds.”

The carer tried to push past again but Cas grabbed her arm and told her to wait.

“What? What's wrong?” she said.

Cas held up the carer’s wrist so everyone could see the diamond bracelet she wore. “This is Mrs. Tate's bracelet.” Mrs Tate gave Cas an approving nod and smile. “Where did you   
get it?”

The carer went pale as she looked at each of you in turn. You felt your own resolve towards her harden. 

“Answer the question,” you said quietly, though you knew you sounded no less threatening than the boys looked.

She swallowed and shrugged, her eyes fixed solely on you. “My boyfriend gave it to me.”

****

Dean pushed open the door after picking the lock to the house the carer had given them directions to. Dean took up the front with his flashlight, while Sam – who had the other flashlight – brought up the rear. Neither you nor Cas had your own flashlights, so you each stood close by them as they searched through the rooms of the small apartment. 

“Hey, Sam,” you said as you picked up a piece of paper from a pile on the table, “shine the light on these.” He did as you asked, leaning over your shoulder to look at them with you. “Bearer bonds. Maybe these belonged to Mrs Tate.”

“So this man is our thief,” Cas said.

“Yeah,” Dean said. He shone his light into the kitchen to find an overturned table with legs poking out from behind it. “Sam, Y/N.”

Seeing the legs, you flicked on the lights to the room, not caring if the owner came back and saw the lights on because it was most likely the owner on the floor. 

You rounded the table and stayed a little behind Dean as he trained his gun at the man on the floor – you didn’t feel the need to pull your own.

The man’s hands were held tightly over his bloodied stomach, and he lifted his head slightly to look at the four of you when the lights came on. You recognised him as the orderly you’d seen with Dr Mahoney earlier when he’d kicked you out of the retirement home. 

“Cas,” you said.

You didn’t need to say anymore. Cas knelt by the man's side and told him to move his hands before covering the gun shot wound with his own and healing it with a flash of golden   
light. The man groaned and writhed in pain during the process, but once Cas was done, he lifted his shirt to only find blood but no wound. 

The orderly looked up at him with a mix of wonderment and horror. “How did you...”

“Guy eats his Wheaties,” Dean said as he tucked his gun and flashlight away. “Sam, come on.”

Sam tucked his own flashlight and gun away as well before helping Dean pull the man up into a chair.

“Wait a second,” the orderly yelled as he struggled against Sam and Dean’s hands. “What did you just do to me?!”

“Hey,” you snapped as you stepped into his line of view. “Cut the bitching. Where’s Fred Jones?”

The orderly’s bewilderment became trained on you then. “I – he – he took him.”

“Who?”

“Dr Mahoney. That guy's evil, man, okay? He's using Mr. Jones.”

“How?” Sam said.

“Look, all Fred does is watch cartoons, but he is magic, okay? A few weeks ago, I – I slammed my foot in his door. I smashed it flat – and I mean flat. And then when I shook the thing, it popped back up, like something out of a cartoon or whatever.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know,” Dean said impatiently.

“So I told Dr. Mahoney, and then he started doing experiments. Just – we just wanted to see what he could do.”

“What about the robberies?” you said.

“Oh, Mahoney's been skimming off Sunset Fields for years. A lot of those folks – they got stuff stashed away, like, off the books, like. So Mahoney would track down the loot, and then we would take Fred for a drive.”

“Right, and use his bubble of weird to rip people off.” You jerked your chin at his torso. “How did you end up gut-shot?”

“Mahoney – after – after he anviled that guard, he started freaking out, and then – then you showed up, and then the cake blew in the day room, and then he lost it.”

Sam frowned at him and shifted on his feet. “What does that mean, "he lost it"?”

“I mean he's on his way back to the bank right now for one last score. Doc's blowing town. I mean, he said that Fred was a loose end. He was gonna kill him. And then, I – I like   
Fred, so I said that if he hurt the guy, I'd go to the cops. And I didn't know that he had a gun.”

“Shit,” you muttered.

****

You crawled out of the Impala and stepped onto the pavement of the alleyway behind the bank. 

“Alright. Jones has got to be close,” you said as the four of you started walking towards the black hole in the back wall of the bank. You turned to face the brothers when you all stopped – their eyes were carefully trained on the brick of the alleyway rather than on you. “You two should hit the bank while me and Cassie look for Fred. Neither of you will be able to concentrate with me in there. God forbid you accidently look at me and die before we take this bastard down.”

Dean groaned and rubbed his chest. “Man I love it when you take control like that.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, smirking when you noticed Sam didn’t seem to be having the same problem.

“You don’t Sammy?” you said teasingly.

He grimaced slightly and pressed his fingers to his sternum at the sound of his nickname on your tongue, but chuckled and shook his head a moment later. “I’m not saying it’s not hot, but I much rather you take orders than give them.” He chanced a saucy wink at you before looking back to the bricks.

You snorted. “Whatever. Come on, Cassie.”

You didn’t look back to see if Cas was following you around the corner and down the street a few blocks, you just knew he would be. He’d been like that when you were a child   
too, always following you where you went, doing whatever you’d told him to. Sometimes it made you feel special. Other times it made you feel guilty. At that time, you didn’t know what to feel, not after the confessions of guilt he’d given you lately.

You began looking into the windows of parked cars. You hadn’t even made it past five of them when Cas passed you and said, “Can you feel that, Y/N? The power.”

You frowned and joined him where he stood by a parked van. You peeked in through the back window and saw Fred sitting in a wheelchair watching cartoons on a tablet. You opened the door – thanking God that Dr Mahoney was stupid enough to leave it unlocked – and climbed into the back to sit by Fred, Cas going in right behind you.

“Fred, hey, buddy,” you said. You grabbed his hand when he didn’t acknowledge your presence. “Hey, Fred? Listen to me. Can you hear me? Fred!” You turned to Cas and gave him a desperate look. “If we could just talk to him …”

Cas gave you a firm nod and placed his hand over where yours sat on Fred’s before placing his other hand on Fred’s arm. Before you got a chance to ask, let alone agree to, what he was doing, a white light emanated from Cas’s hands.

You grimaced as the light became blinding and once it faded away you found yourself standing in cartoon land. Literally. It was all cartoon desert and bright blue sky. You stood by a cartoon road, and you watched in shock as a cartoon creature zoomed past you and into the distant hills where an explosion erupted from the horizon.

You looked to Cas who stood across the road from you. “Uh, Cassie, where are we?”

“Inside Mr. Jones's mind,” he said matter-of-factly. “You said you wanted to talk to him.”

“Who the hell are you?” You jumped at the sound of the angry voice and turned to find Fred on his feet glaring at you with crossed arms. 

The sky shattered suddenly and fell to pieces around you. The desert landscape you’d been standing in became overexposed and turned to moving grey and white colours. A loud   
static noise starts up and you take a step towards the man that caused it all.

“Fred. Um, hey, it's – it's – it's me … from the retirement home, if you remember. I'm, uh – I'm Y/N, a friend of Sam and Dean’s. The Winchester’s?”

“John's boys?” he said as he unfolded his arms.

You gave him an enthusiastic nod and smiled. “That's right.” The background began flickering, switching between colourful cartoon land and terrifying static land. 

“Well, it’s only been three, four years since I last saw them.”

“More like, uh, 20 – or so I hear. Uh, listen, Fred, I'm gonna need you to focus.”

He gave you a perplexed look and pointed a crooked finger at you. “How did you... Why are you here, Y/N?”

You told him as much as you could, in what little time you could. Even if you’d taken more time to explain it, you didn’t think Fred would have been any happier with your answer. 

He shook his head. “No, no, no, no, no. You're lying!”

“This is happening, Mr. Jones,” Cas said. “They're using you.”

Fred (who’d begun pacing) turned on the angel suddenly. “As what – some kind of a damn psychic CopperTop? You plug me in, and the whole world goes wacky? It doesn't work   
that way.”

“How would you know?” you said. “No offense, but it seems to me like you've been spending more time in here than you have... out there.”

Fred narrowed his eyes at you before he answered you. And, much to your surprise, you related to it. “You want to know what's the worst thing that can happen to a guy that's got a mind like I got? Losing it.”

You said nothing, and he paced for a few more moments before he turned back to you. “Cartoons – I always loved them when I was a kid.” The background changed to black and white circles and patterns before going back to static. “They made me feel... happy – safe. They were...”

“Something to hold on to,” you said softly as you thought of all the times you’d snuck out of your room at your mother’s house to watch the football. At first, it had just been what was on TV when your father had passed out drunk and you’d been too scared to change the channel lest he woke up. Then you became invested in it. It became your home away from hell. You’d never been allowed books or toys as a child, so football became your only escape.

“Yeah,” Fred said as he looked at you with newfound respect. You were someone who understood how he felt in that sense. That deserved a portion of respect on his part in his eyes.

You took a few steps towards him. “I need you to stop this ... take control.”

“It's too hard,” he yelled.

“Look, it can be nice living in a dream world. It can be great. I know that.” The walls became coloured rectangles, but you continued on. “And you can hide, and you can pretend all   
the crap out there doesn't exist, but you can't do it forever because... eventually, whatever it is you're running from – it'll find you. It'll come along, and it'll punch you in the gut. And then... then you got to wake up, because if you don't, then trying to keep that dream alive will destroy you! It'll destroy everything!”

For a moment he stood there with narrowed eyes watching you, and your heart sank because you didn’t think you’d gotten through to him. Then the background became a white, blinding light and you’re back in the van with a very awake, very aware Fred.

****

You rushed into the front room of the bank with Fred and Cas in time to find Dr Mahoney pulling a gun on Sam and Dean with every intention of using it.

“No!” you yelled as everything around you slowed and your heart jumped into your throat.

Your cry of dread drew Dr Mahoney’s attention and Fred pointed his fingers at him. “You are never going to hurt anyone again,” Fred yelled.

With a gasp, Dr Mahoney grabbed his own gun arm as his hand turned the gun on him against his will. You flinched as the gun fired and the Dr’s brains splattered across the floor.   
Much like the cake had back at the retirement home. 

“Now that's all, folks,” Dean muttered as he followed Sam who had rushed straight towards you the moment Dr Mahoney was no longer a threat and wrapped you up in his arms.   
You clung to him and reminded yourself that he was okay as you pressed your lips to his before turning to Dean and doing the same with him. 

“I was so scared for you both,” you whispered.

“I know, baby,” he said as he ran his hand over the back of your head and squeezed you tight. “But we’re okay. We’re not going anywhere for a long time, yet.”

“My God,” you heard Fred say as he looked around at the anvil on the floor and the black circles on the walls. 

You pulled away from Dean and sniffed as you wiped away the lone tear that had fallen down your cheek.

“Fred. You okay?” you asked.

He looked at you. “Now I'm good. In a month, year ...” He sighed. “Nobody gets sharper with age. I'm gonna lose control again, and somebody's gonna get hurt... again. You got to   
make it stop.”

“There might be a way,” Cas said. “The procedure will be painful, and... when it's over, I'm not sure how much of you will be left.”

You opened your mouth to say no, but before you could, Fred took a deep breath and said, “Well, what are you waiting for?” And you realised it hadn’t been your decision to make.

****

“You know, I gotta say,” Dean murmured in your ear as his arm came around your waist, “as much as I love you, I’m glad my heart isn’t trying to jump out of my chest to get to you anymore. That would’ve caused serious problems for our relationship.”

You chuckled and elbowed him lightly in the ribs, though he grunted and feigned pain to make you laugh again.

“Ditto,” Sam said as he ran a hand down your hair and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You returned the smile he gave you and looked down at Fred. He was back in his wheelchair, safe and sound in the retirement home, and looking out the window with the same blissful, blank expression he’d had when you’d first seen him.

“He's listening to Ode to Joy,” Cas said as he smiled. “He's happy.”

Dean smiled. “Alright, well, let's blow this termite terrace. Cas, you get to ride shotgun. You done good.”

“Hey,” you exclaimed.

Dean gave you a cheeky smile and a pat on the ass. “Don’t worry, baby. You get to sleep with me tonight, that’s reward enough.”

You rolled your eyes at the elder Winchester, then grinned when Sam said, “Nice try Dean. Tonight’s my night with Y/N.”

“Thanks,” Cas said, interrupting the minor squabble as though it weren’t happening, “but I, uh... I can't come. I, uh ...” He trailed off, his gaze becoming fixed to the ground and his body becoming still.

“You – you what, Cas?” you said. “W-why can't you come with us?”

His body seemed to reanimate – much like it had after you’d found Kevin, you noted. He looked at you. “I, um... I want to stay with Mr. Jones. Someone should watch over him for a few days just to be safe.”

“Okay, and then what?” Dean said.

Cas kept his eyes trained on you. “Then I'm not sure. But I know I can't run anymore.”

Dean nodded and squeezed your hip. “You with me, sweetheart?”

You took in a deep breath and nodded as well. “Yeah, uh … could you … could you guys give us a moment?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look but left at your request without argument. You turned back to Cas.

“Y/N,” he started, “nothing you say –”

“I’m not – I’m not gonna try to talk you out of it, Cassie. You gotta do what you gotta do. I get it,” you said. 

He gave you a confused frown. “Then why?”

You took a step towards him. “I don’t want you to blame yourself for what’s happening to me. It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault but theirs – my parents. They did this to   
me, Cassie. Not you. And yeah, when I asked you to kill my parents, Crowley was the one to step up and do it. But you know what? I don’t blame you for not doing that either.”   
A lump rose up in your throat as you forced the words out and endured the snippets of memory that came with them. “I was a very, very sick child. I shouldn’t have asked that of you. No child asks that of anyone. And – and neither of us knew that Crowley had kept tabs on you when you first touched down and came to me. Neither of us knew that he’d start visiting me like you did. And we definitely didn’t know that when I asked him the same thing he’d do it with no strings attached. No contract. Nothing. And you know what else? Crowley never stuck around after that either. Sure, he kept tabs on me, just like you said you did. But he never visited me. I never blamed him for that, but I blamed you. I hated you for it.” 

You sniffed as a tear began rolling down your cheek and others welled up to take it’s place. Your voice became thick. “And – and now that I’m older – I think I hated you and not him because I loved you more. I missed you more. I love Crowley too, in my own way, but not as much as I love you. And not the same way that I love you. I blamed you, because I missed you. And I couldn’t understand why you’d left me.” 

You let out a sob, but held up your hand when Cas took a step towards you with a pained look. “But I get it now. And I don’t blame you for where I ended up. And I don’t blame you for what’s become of me now. Because you’ve done so much for me. You saved me, Cassie. And I can never pay you back for that. But I can take away your hurt, even if it’s just a little bit.” 

You sniffed again and cleared your throat. Then you wrapped your arms around him and whispered in his ear, “I love you, Cassie. And I’m sorry for all the hurt I made you feel. And the guilt. I don’t blame you, I never will. So please, stop blaming yourself.”

Cas’s arms came around you, and he buried his face in your neck. Just then, as he drew in the scent of your skin and memorised what you felt like, he let go of all the guilt he had felt about your situation. Just like that – just because you’d said he could.


	19. Citizen Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A call from an old hunter contact of the brothers has the three of you heading to Louisiana to hunt a vampire. Not just any vampire. Benny. You're convinced he did nothing wrong, and you have to race against the clock to prove it before Sam and Martin decide to take up arms. By the end of it, you and Sam end up in the exact same place the two of you had been in after Purgatory.

You were crouched by the side of the road, playing with a dog that had been tied up, with Sam watching you from the Impala (an adoring smile on his face) when he got the bad news. Martin Creaser had called to tell him that Benny fell off the wagon and killed someone. 

With a sigh, Sam looked back out the window to where you were laughing with the friendly dog. It wasn’t until Dean slid back into the car with a tray full of food, asking who was on the phone, that Sam turned his attention back to a raving Martin.

“Just listen,” Sam cut in roughly. “Hang tight ‘til you hear from me, okay?” He hung up before Martin could answer and looked at Dean. “We got to get.”

Dean gave him an incredulous look and gestured down at the food. “Can I at least finish my burger?”

“We got a vamp kill, Dean – Carencro, Louisiana.”

Dean looked out the window towards you and smiled. “Huh. It's been a while since I've had some étouffée. Who's the source?”

“Martin Creaser.”

Dean paused as he and his brother shared a look. “Sorry – for a minute there, I thought you said, Martin Creaser.” Sam didn’t say anything. “Crazy Martin from the loony bin?”

“Glendale Springs discharged him last month,” Sam said.

Dean scoffed. “And? Shouldn't he be assembling toys in a padded room? What's he doing back on the job?”

“I asked him.’

“You what?”

“Look,” Sam said, “he called me when he got out, okay, asked if I had anything for him that might help him ease back into the game. He seemed okay – mostly – so I said yes.” Sam paused before he continued, “I've had him tracking Benny for the past week.”

Dean shook his head and flicked a tongue over his bottom lip as he glanced back out the window at you. “You put "mostly okay" Martin on Benny? What is "mostly okay" doing hunting at all?”

“Not hunting, Dean – tracking. Observe and report only. I was crystal clear about that.”

“Wow,” Dean scoffed. “I can't believe that.”

“Really, Dean? You don't believe that? Because Benny's a vampire. And any hunter worth his salt isn't gonna let one just walk around freely. So I had Martin keep tabs on him. And right now, it's looking like I made the right call.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue some more but stopped when he saw you laugh again. He thought about what the new situation would do to you, how upset you would be, and   
he realised that fighting with his brother was the worst thing he could be doing right now. He had to be there for you and that meant stowing his crap for a few days. Besides, you’d be pissed enough for the both of you. 

“So Martin's saying Benny did this?” Dean said softly.

“Yeah,” Sam said.

Dean nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“If Benny's in Louisiana draining folks... we should look into it.” Sam raised his brows at his brother’s sudden compliance. “But you gotta be the one to tell Y/N, ‘cause I ain’t breaking that news to her.” Sam scoffed. “I mean it, Sam. You don’t get it. He treats her like the baby sister he always wanted. Benny’s closer to her than he is to me, and you can believe that she feels the same about him. Even if we catch him in the act, she won’t be on our side. He’s her family, Sam.”

“And what about us, Dean? Aren’t we her family too? Shouldn’t she have our backs?” Sam snapped.

Dean gave his brother a sad look. “With what we put her through? No. And I don’t blame her.”

****

You could practically feel your blood boil as you stormed down the hall of The Beaudelaire towards the room that Martin was supposed to be staying in. You were still trying to get past the fact that Sam hadn’t trusted you when you’d told him Benny was and always would be clean. What pissed you off even more, was that Dean didn’t seem to have a problem with it at all. He was all sympathetic glances and smiles, as though he really believed Benny was behind the dead body.

You didn’t believe that. Not for a second. 

Before you could raise your fist to pound it on door number two, it was wrenched open to reveal a scrawny, balding man. His eyes landed on Sam immediately.

“You said look for an eruption,” he said. “How's Mount Vesuvius?”

He opened the door wider to let the three of you in but put a hand on your shoulder to stop you when he suddenly saw you standing there. “Who the hell is this?” he asked the brothers.

You snarled at him and shook his hand off. “Put a hand on me again and you won’t live long enough to find out.”

You pushed past him, barely listening when Sam told him your name and that you were a hunter too. Martin took his word for it and shut the door behind Sam and Dean when   
they entered.

“I got into town about a week ago,” Martin said. “Up until last night, nothing. He's been clean.”

“Doing what?” you said.

“Just minding his own business. Working at the gumbo shack.”

“Benny's working at the gumbo shack?” 

“Yeah. Slinging hash, pouring coffee – the whole bit. And he may be Benny to you. Folks around here call him Roy.”

“Martin,” Dean said, “you sure you're running on a full charge?”

Martin gave him a sheepish smile. “Y-yeah. L-l-little s-shock therapy in the morning and I-I'm good to go.” He snapped his fingers and you rolled your eyes. 

“Tell us what happened last night,” Sam said softly, and you couldn’t help but wonder why both the brothers seemed as calm as if this were just a normal case.

“So, I followed him home,” Martin said, “just like every night. He turned up a path. I hear a scream. I catch up. Then, boom – there he is. The old coot that Roy was eyeballing at the joint – vamped.”

“Wait,” you growled as you took a step towards him, “did you actually see Benny kill the guy or not?”

“I saw enough.”

You clenched your teeth and flexed your hands to keep from doing something stupid, you felt Dean come up behind you and put a hand on your shoulder, and you knew it was more for Martin’s protection than it was your comfort.

“Well, then, how can you be sure it was Benny if you didn't actually see him do it?” you said.

He frowned at you. “B-b-because I saw Benny turn up the path, and then two seconds later, I trip over a body with its throat ripped. Look, sweetheart, you – you ever hear of   
Occam's Razor? “Keep it simple, stupid”? It's not that complicated.”

You lifted a lip in contempt. “Call me ‘sweetheart’ again.”

Martin scoffed but Dean lifted his other hand to your shoulder and squeezed so you wouldn’t get out of his grip too quickly. You didn’t know if Martin was just brave or stupid. You couldn’t have made your murderous rage towards him any clearer if you’d driven a knife through his heart. Maybe he just didn’t think you could live up to your threats. You knew that next to the brother’s you didn’t look all that threatening, but the fact that you had to try harder to scare people made you far more dangerous than either of the Winchesters. 

“There's a lot of holes, Martin,” Dean said. You knew he was trying to make you feel better about the situation; he was trying to come up with reasons about why it wasn’t Benny. But you also knew he was trying to convince himself, not you. You didn’t need convincing.

“Holes?’ Martin said with an incredulous laugh. “The only holes we should be looking at are in the vic's neck.”

“This sound like the Benny you know?”

“No,” you said.

“I don't know Benny,” Sam said at the same time. He avoided your eyes as he did.

“The Benny you know?” Martin snapped. He turned to Sam. “Say what? Why am I getting the distinct impression that your brother and – and your friend are vouching for a   
vampire?”

“Guys, let's not argue,” Sam said.

“Yeah. I can think of a lot more fun things I could be doing right now,” you said menacingly as you stroked your fingers against the hilt of your knife and eyed Martin down.

“Nobody's arguing,” Dean growled as he pulled you back into his chest, “but if this is Benny – and that's a big "if" –“

“Oh, it's him,” Martin said.

“Me and Y/N, we got history with the guy, okay? We’re not signing up for a witch hunt.” He looked at Sam. “We owe him more than that.”

Martin stared at Dean in shock for a moment before taking a step closer to him, a step closer to you, and saying, “What in God's great creation could a Winchester possibly owe a vampire? Am I hearing this right?”

“Look,” Dean snapped, his fingers loosening on your shoulders until he was simply rubbing his thumbs against your skin, “until we get the facts, we stow the bloodlust and we work this case right, or we work it separately.”

“Doing it right would be separating his head from his shoulders.”

You pulled out of Dean’s grasp then and took Martin by the front of the shirt, pushing him back into the table that sat against the wall. “You listen to me,” you said softly, “If you ever touch a hair on Benny’s head, I’ll make you wish you never crawled your way out of the loony bin. You don’t get to make any decisions here. In fact, when this is all over, you’re gonna get in your car and drive miles in the opposite direction of Benny. You never talk of him, you never visit him, you never even think of him. If I find out you have I’ll send you right to the bottom of the food chain.”

You didn’t know what Martin saw in your face or what changed his mind about you. Maybe it was what you’d said, maybe he was just deciding to take you seriously. Whatever it was, it had him nodding his head vigorously and shutting his mouth.

You let him up and turned to Sam. “I just need some time, Sammy.”

He turned his shocked look from Martin to you and took a deep breath, shaking his head as though trying to focus on the task at hand. 

“How much time do you need?” he said.

“Couple hours, tops.”

He nodded. “And what if it turns out to be Benny?”

You ground your teeth together. “Then it's Benny, and I'll deal with it!”

He nodded again and you left without another word. 

Martin rubbed at his throat and glanced at the door that you’d left through. “Jesus,” he croaked, “where the hell did you find her? And what the hell’s her problem?”

Dean gave him a wry smile. “We found her in a loony bin, just like you, Martin. And her problem?” He gestured towards himself and Sam. “She’s dating both of us. Her best friends are an angel with crazy identity problems, a vampire that may or may not be a killer, oh and her father figure? Yeah, he’s the King of Hell.”

Martin swallowed and rubbed at his neck again. “Serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“Maybe a vampire isn’t the only thing in this town that needs hunting.”

Dean’s face hardened and Sam straightened from the wall he’d been slumping against. “Watch it, Martin,” Sam said. “There’s a reason no one’s tried hunting her down yet. And I’m not just talking hunters. I’m talking monsters too.”

****

Guidry’s Cajun Cafe – an image of Benny popped into your head as you read the neon alligator sign and you smiled. You thought that maybe he would have liked the place. Then you promised yourself you’d buy him a meal there once everything was over. Even if he didn’t eat it, at least the two of you could spend some more time together. 

You told him that the two of you had to part ways after Purgatory, but after taking down his nest with him, the two of you had tried to talk on the phone at least once a day. It was something that you’d kept from the brothers, but you were sure that Dean had a hunch. 

You entered the café and took a seat at the counter, smiling at the beautiful brunette behind it when she handed you a menu. 

“Actually, I already know what I want,” you said.

She smiled. “Let me guess. You want the gumbo?”

You chuckled. “Was gonna be the gumbo till I saw…” you pointed your finger at the end of the counter where the pie sat and clicked your tongue, “pie.”

She smiled and said, in her Louisiana drawl, “Well, the special's pecan.”

You returned her smile and nodded. “'Course it is. Let's do that.”

She nodded and left you to get your order. Just as she moved, you noticed a handful of photos pinned to the wall behind where she’d been standing. Of course, because you were   
the lucky type, there was a picture of Benny in an apron with his arm wrapped around the brunette’s shoulders and a big smile on his face. 

Before you got a chance to process it, the brunette returned with a sympathetic look. “Bad news,” she sighed.

Guess you weren’t the lucky type after all. “You're out of pecan. Story of my life. Uh, that's all right. Maybe you can make it up to me. I'm actually looking for an old friend of mine. I heard he's kicking around these parts. His name's Roy.”

Her brows furrowed slightly in thought. “Well, Roy works the night shift here. I mean, if we're talking about the same Roy.”

“Uh, yeah, he, uh, putts around in a – a beat-up camper. Thing looks like a rolling death trap.”

She laughed, and for the briefest of moments, you wished you were still single. “Yeah, I thought I was the only one who gave him trouble over that piece of junk.”

You laughed along with her, eyes fixed on hers as you replied, “You wouldn't happen to know where he's parking that thing these days, would you?”

“Well, he, uh, was parking it out back, but just called to tell me he's gone up the road to Mill Creek for a few days.”

“Okay. Uh, did he say why?”

“Oh...” she shrugged, “fishing, I think. He really deserves a break. He's been working doubles for the last two weeks straight.”

You nodded and pulled a pen from your pocket before grabbing a napkin and jotting down your name and number. As you did so, you said, “Um, listen, I, uh, I tell you what. If he pops up before I can find him, you do me a favour and just have him give me a buzz.” You slid the napkin towards her with a charming smile and a wink. “Over a year ago I woulda asked you to drop a dime yourself.”

A blush coloured her cheeks as she returned your smile. “It’s too bad you won’t now. I woulda taken you up on that …” she looked down at the napkin, “Y/N.”

You smiled and stood from the counter. “Just the wrong time, I guess. And, uh, you are …?”

“Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth. All right. Take a rain check on that pie.”

“Definitely.”

You rapped your knuckles against the counter with another smile before you left. Once you left the café, the smile fell from your face as the weight of the situation fell back on your shoulders. You pulled your phone from your pocket and dialled Benny’s number from memory.

You got voicemail.

“Benny,” you said once you heard the beep. “I got a body here in Carencro with two holes in it, and I just found out you went fishing. Do I need to tell you what this looks like?”

****

You found Benny exactly where Elizabeth said he would be. There was a shovel and what looked like a freshly filled grave. You pulled your machete from its sheath the moment you saw it and held it behind your back when you spotted Benny. He had his back to you as he washed his hands-free of blood in an outdoor sink.

You saw his shoulders stiffen, and you knew he just picked up your scent.

“It's not me, darlin’,” he said.

“Now, which "me" are we talking about – Benny, or Roy?”

He turned to face you after wiping his hands down with a hand towel. “I'm just trying to blend in.”

You glanced at his hands. “Blend in? Who'd you plant, Benny?”

He took a moment to answer you. “Victim number two. If you're concerned about the missed calls, I didn't want to get you involved. Now...” he reached his hand out and played his   
fingers against the handle of the machete he’d stuck into a nearby tree stump, “want to safety that thing...talk a little bit or what?” You brought your machete out from behind your back but didn’t put it away. He gave you a said smile. “Darlin’, you and I both know you can’t hurt me anymore than I can hurt you.”

“You won’t mind me holding onto it then,” you said calmly. You hadn’t believed Benny killed that man, but then you’d caught him in the act of burying another body, and now you weren’t sure what to believe anymore. 

Benny nodded and took a step away from his own machete, an act of trust you didn’t think he’d bestow on anyone else. You still didn’t sheath yours, he didn’t seem surprised. 

“Rogue vamp,” he said. “Came into the café a couple nights ago. Youngster goes by the name of Desmond. He, uh, he remembers me from the good old days.”

“The good old days?”

“I know it's hard to believe, but I haven't always been this cute and cuddly,” you felt yourself soften immediately at his good humour. You put the machete away and hated that you   
did so. “He's chasing a memory, darlin’. That's all. He's crewing up a new nest. He's hoping I can give him some cred. I told him no.”

“All right. So far, so good.” You jerked your chin at the sink. “Let's get to the part about the blood.”

“Didn't want to take no for an answer. He's trying to roust me out, leaving dead bodies in my wake till I sign up. Two bodies in two days. No amateur is gonna kick me out of my hometown, darlin’. Not this time.”

“Hometown? You grew up here?”

He nodded. “Born and bred.” You looked around the forest you stood in with an appreciative nod. “With Andrea gone and you hunting again, seemed like the right time for a homecoming – you two being the only ones who keep all my ducks in a row. Went back to my old job at the café. I even found someone to hold myself accountable to. Best kind of someone, darlin'. Family.”

You remembered the picture of Elizabeth and Benny back at the café. Realised that the arm he’d had around her shoulder may not have been platonic.

You nodded and walked a few feet past him as you said her name.

“My great-granddaughter.”

You froze and pulled a face, thankful you were still facing away from him as the realisation dawned on you that you’d just been hitting on Benny’s granddaughter. “Really?” you said. 

“Now, hold it, now. You didn't –“

“Uh, no.” You let out a nervous chuckle and turned to find Benny watching you closely. You had a sudden thought that this must be how teenage boys felt when they met their girlfriend’s dad for the first time. You cleared your throat. “No. Does she know?”

That seemed a sufficient answer for him, and he was quick to change the subject. “No. No, as far as she's concerned, I was just another drifter. I'd like to keep it that way. It's been   
tough walking the line here after all those years in Purgatory not having to deal with the hunger. But Elizabeth... she keeps me honest. I finally feel like I got a handle on this thing.”

For the second time that day, the gravity of the situation fell on you. “Handle on things? Benny, you've got two stiffs on your hands and two hunters on your ass.”

He scoffed. “Oh, please. The half-wit who found me at the café? I'll take my chances with him.”

“That half-wit was sent by my boyfriend, and trust me – my boyfriend's not someone you want to mess with.”

He gave you a quizzical look. “Dean sent him?”

“What? Uh, no … the – the other brother.”

You thought that would clear things up for him, but he seemed as confused as ever. “You and Dean were head over heels for each other in Purgatory. There’s no way he’d sit back while you ran off into the sunset with his brother.”

You gave him a nervous smile. “Uh … he’s not? Not really, anyway.”

His frown deepened and he tilted his head as he watched you. Then realisation suddenly flooded his face as he understood what you were getting at. He let out a short laugh and ran a hand over his beard. “Things ‘round here really have changed, huh? Look, putting that aside for now, I don't have time to worry about them, darlin’. I didn't think Desmond had an ounce of steel in his spine, but I was wrong about that. So now I'm gonna do what I should have done two days ago, which is put him back where he belongs.”

You took a step towards him. “You know there's only one way to do that, right? And that is for you to sit on the sideline while I convince Sam and Martin to go after Desmond. They see you out there, they don't care if you're gonna be collecting for the March of Dimes. They are gonna slice first and ask questions later. You know that.”

“You really think they'll go for that?” he said softly.

You didn’t have an answer for him. 

****

It turned out that maybe there was a part of you that didn’t trust Sam to listen. Instead of leaving Benny and going back to Martin’s room, you called Dean and told him what to   
relay. You stayed with Benny into the late afternoon until you got a call from a frantic Dean saying neither Sam nor Martin when for it.

“Benny,” you said when you hung up. “You’ve got to get going, Dean said they didn’t go for it and they’re on their way here.”

He stood with a sigh and walked towards you. “No offense, darlin’, but your boyfriend doesn't exactly put chills up my spine.”

“Benny, listen to me. Do not underestimate Sammy, okay? He can and will kill you given the chance.”

His eyes gave your face a once over before he finally answered, “All right. So, what now?”

“I go find Desmond.”

“You take me with.”

“Hey, I just told you – best thing you can do is lay low.”

He gave you a sad smile. “That ain't gonna work this time, bub. You take me with, or I don't tell you where he is.”

“You know where he is?” 

Benny pulled his machete from the stump and sheathed it. “He said he's not gonna stop the killing till I join his little nest. Two bodies is enough. I told him I'm in.”

“Benny,” you growled.

He gave you a soft smile and cupped your face in his hands. “Darlin’, this is my fight. Are you in or are you out?”

You were in. You were always in.

****

“This the place?” you said as you climbed out of the stolen car you’d been driving around in, and looked at the shipyard building. 

Benny nodded as he leaned against the back door. You popped the hood and started going through your duffel bag, pulling out a syringe filled with dead man’s blood and tucking it into your jacket pocket. 

“So, what’s the plan?” you said as you slammed the boot closed. “I hang back while you guys do some trust falls and binge-drinking?”

Benny chuckled as he came to stand beside you. “Darlin’, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you have an extremely low opinion of us vamps.”

You grinned at him and ran a hand down his chest. “Aw, Benny, you know you’re always my exception.”

He rolled his eyes but leaned forward with a small smile so you could plant a kiss on his cheek.

The two of you split up not long after you entered the shipyard. You had your flashlight out (night having fallen on your way over there) shining in all the nooks and crannies you could find to know avail.

You had your machete at the ready, but your hand tightened around it the moment you heard light footsteps behind you. You turned on your heel and took a few steps forward, flashlight held high. Nothing. You didn’t know if it had been your imagination or rats, but there was nothing there. 

Exhaling sharply through your nose, you prepared yourself to turn back around. The hairs on the back of your neck suddenly rose and you just knew, without hearing anything, that there was someone behind you. Benny wouldn’t have been stupid enough to sneak up on you like that, so you could only guess that it was Desmond.

You spun on your heel once again with your machete raised. The blade didn’t come close to his neck before he had one hand wrapped around that wrist and the other around your neck. Before you had time to think of an escape plan, he had you off your feet and thrown five meters across the room. You shook your head to clear it of the fog that grew when your head hit the floor, only to feel hands on your shoulders and a body straddling you. It was only then you realised the flashlight and machete had gone flying from your hands.  
Desmond’s fangs descended, and you could only grimace at the awful, blond dye job that you could finally see in the moonlight.

“Benny never told me he was bringing a friend,” he said.

You grimaced again. “You're not gonna talk a lot, are you?” you said as you reached into your jacket pocket for the syringe that was there. “I've been dealing with crazy... all day.”  
You lifted the syringe, aiming for his neck, but he caught your hand immediately in his own and squeezed until the syringe shattered in your hands. You cried out as the glass dug into your flesh. He smiled and forced your hand down before slashing out at your neck with a fingernail. 

Desmond froze above you, looking at his blood soaked fingers like they were water and he’d been parched for days. He licked at his fingers in excitement before snarling down at you and lunging for your neck. Before his fangs sank in, he was wrenched upright and a blade sliced straight through his neck. You rolled to the side when his head fell from his body towards you. 

“Son of a...” you panted as you looked up at Benny. “It took you long enough.”

He grinned and held a hand out to pull you to your feet. “You've lost a step, friend. You need to lay off the junk food.”

You touched a hand to the wound in your neck to make sure it wasn’t too deep and winced as pain jolted through the area.

Benny’s eyes narrowed and dropped to your neck, his lips began twitching. “You okay?” you said slowly, preparing to take a step back if need be.

He raised his eyes to yours. “I'm fine.” It was a visible struggle, but he managed to turn from you and walk away.

****

Ten minutes later, you were holding a cloth to the wound in your neck and waiting outside by the car for Dean to show up when Benny finally approached you again.

“My life here is over, isn't it?” he said, not alluding to the fact that for a quick minute he’d seen you as food.

You let it slide and pulled the cloth from your neck when you were sure the wound had stopped bleeding. “Afraid so. Once word gets out... The machete swingers that'll come for you... You can't take them all. It's impossible. And even if you could...”

“We'd have a problem,” he said.

“You know, Benny, I used to think I’d never have a home. Never have a family. I was stuck in a place that believed every word that left my mouth was the rambling of a mad   
woman.”

“You about to tell me that because you found something, one day I could too?” You shrugged, not sure what he wanted to here. “Don’t insult me with that bullshit, darlin’. There’s always gonna be people who want me dead. I’m always gonna be runnin’ from something. How am I s’posed to have a family when everyone wants me dead?”

You gave him a hopeful smile. “I don’t want you dead, Benny.”

He returned your smile, but it was as much sad as it was adoring and thankful. “And I will forever be indebted to you for that, darlin’. But, as much as I love you, you’re not the only family I want. You can’t give me what I need.” He chuckled. “Besides, you already got enough men on your plate that are broken and too much to handle. I heard on the grapevine about your angel and that, uh, that Crowley fella. I don’t know how you juggle them and the Winchester boys.”

You rolled your eyes. “I hate that everyone knows my business.”

Benny shrugged and chucked you under the chin. “That’s what happens when you hang around the things you do.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Listen, Benny, I’m sorry I can’t give you the answers you want. But, uh, until this thing with Sam and Martin blows over … you should probably go underground. Somewhere nobody knows who you are.”

He nodded and looked solemn again. “Yeah. I got one last thing I got to do.”

****

Dean had finally shown up, worried as hell and berating Benny’s ass for allowing you to get hurt. Benny took it all in stride and you let the underlying misogyny of the situation go. Benny’s last wish had been to see Elizabeth. Dean hadn’t let him go in and talk to her like you would have, but he seemed content with watching her through the window.  
You hated to admit it, but you cried when you finally said goodbye to him. He hugged you and told you how much he would miss you. He even said there was nothing in the world that could stop him from ever seeing you again. He promised to call you as often as he could once things died down, and you forced yourself not to cry all over Dean’s clothes when you watched his headlights disappear.

Of course, your mood had turned sour again not long after when you found out Dean had replaced Amelia’s phone with a burner a while back and used it to get Sam out of town. You didn’t know what pissed you off more, the fact that Dean would do that, or the fact that it had worked. From what you could gather, the moment Sam had gotten the fake text asking for help he’d stranded Martin in the middle of the woods and hightailed it back to Texas to make sure she was okay.

You shouldn’t have been jealous. You knew that Sam loved you and would never … well, he already had hadn’t he? In a way he’d dropped you for her once before, by logic wouldn’t he do it again? You’d hoped that once the two of you worked things out she wouldn’t be a part of his life anymore. Evidently not. You refrained from jumping to assumptions, from accusing him of something that you weren’t even sure of. Sam would have a chance to explain himself when he got back.

Martin, on the other hand, had dealt with a very nasty phone call from you. You hadn’t meant to be that angry when you talked to him, but there was something about him that rubbed you the wrong way, you couldn’t help but act hostile towards him. His sugar sweet responses hadn’t helped his case. You’d ended the call by telling him to find a new line of work and threatening him with severe pain if he ever tried to find Benny.

You slumped in the passenger seat once the call had ended, you could feel Dean glancing at you but you said nothing.

“Listen, baby, I’m sorry,” he said as he reached over to put a hand on your thigh.

“Shut up,” you said, not bothering to look at him. You felt his hand tense before he pulled it away from you. He didn’t try talking again. 

About five minutes out from the nearest motel, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and answered without looking at the caller ID.

“Y/N?” 

You frowned at the sound of the woman’s voice on the other end, wondering who it could be for a moment before it finally clicked for you. “Elizabeth?” you said, waving a dismissive hand at Dean when he tried to ask you what was going on.

“Y-you told me to call you if I saw... him,” she said softly.

“What do you mean? Roy? Is – is he there right now? Elizabeth, what's going on?”

She didn’t answer for so long that you had to pull the phone away from your ear and make sure you hadn’t accidently hung up on her. “Just come,” she said.

You swore to yourself that if Benny was at the café when you got there, you would beat his ass black and blue.

You told Dean what happened and the wheels of the Impala screeched as he did an 180 at a crossroads and accelerated well past the speed limit. 

****

Elizabeth was seated on the steps of the café when you and Dean rocked up. Tears had dried on her face, and Dean gave her a cloth for the cut that was on her neck. You gave her a glance and a reassuring touch on the head but went straight into the café when she gestured to its front door.

Benny wasn’t there. But Martin was, and you couldn’t help but feel glad when you saw his throat had been ripped out. You were even happier when you found out it was because he’d tried to use Elizabeth as bait to lure Benny back to town. Benny had taken it, of course, but he’d left alive and that was all that mattered to you. 

You were back on the road once Martin’s body was taken care of and you were sure that Elizabeth would be okay. You’d almost fallen asleep against the window when a ringing blared through the silence of the car. Once you were sure it wasn’t yours, you popped open the glove compartment and groaned when you found the phone that had been ringing.

“Please tell me this isn’t her phone,” you snapped. Dean gave you a guilty look and you threw it at him. “Sam’s calling.”

Your blood boiled and you got angrier and angrier the longer you listened to their conversation. Not even Dean’s relaying of Martin’s death could cheer you up. When Sam hung up on Dean, you knew he wouldn’t be leaving Texas for at least a few days. You couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t tried talking to you.


	20. A Frayed Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel comes to you for help. His friend Samandriel has been kidnapped by Crowley. While you try to help him as best you can, he couldn't have come at a worse time. Sam leaving for Texas was the straw that broke the camel's back, and you suddenly find yourself relapsing worse than you ever have before. It's during this time that Sam and Dean finally realise that while no monster or hunter would dare harm you, there was nothing stopping you from hurting yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this fic is tagged with warnings, but I just want to put another one here. There is a very graphic depiction of a suicide attempt in this part. If that makes you uncomfortable, DO NOT READ IT. 
> 
> On the plus side, This is the twentieth chapter! i can't believe how far this fic has come :) I'd really like to know how you guys are feeling about it so far :)

To say your relationship with Sam had become rocky was a gross understatement. You sat on the couch, your knee bouncing as you stared at your phone. A part of you said that Sam was a decent man, which meant he would rush to the aid of anyone he cared about – that’s why he’d gone back to Amelia when he’d gotten the fake text. But his lack of calls to you and the fact that he hadn’t come back suggested otherwise. You’d been sitting in the cabin for days, wondering if this was it. Was this his way of telling you it was over? Had he made his choice and decided that he didn’t want you to be a part of his domestic life at all? 

Your relationship would be rocky with Dean as well if it wasn’t for your incessant worrying. You should be just as angry at him for sending that text knowing how you felt about Sam’s relationship with Amelia. Whenever you felt yourself getting angry at him, you remembered what it was like to be without either of the Winchesters. You remembered the month of loneliness. That fear of losing them both was the only thing that kept you from directing your anger at Dean. 

Who knows? Maybe he’d decided you were more effort than you were worth too.

You didn’t know why you were so surprised. You were so broken. So difficult to be with. Of course, they’d finally see you weren’t worth all the trouble.

Maybe you should leave Dean before he realised what his brother had? What if he already had realised it? He’d come back from Texas last night, saying nothing except that Sam wasn’t coming back. He hadn’t slept in the same bed as you either. 

That morning he’d barely looked at you let alone said anything. Then he left – said something about clearing his head. What if he wasn’t coming back either? 

As a tear fell down your cheek, you sighed in agitation and stood up. You were acting stupid. Never in your life had you cried over a boy. Not until you’d met the Winchesters at least.

You scrubbed your hands over your face, sniffed and turned to head to the kitchen only to yelp and jump back when you saw Cas standing there.

“Damn it, Cassie! How many times I got to tell you not to do that,” you snapped.

“Y/N, I need your help. The angel Samandiriel … he's been taken.”

“Samandriel’s gone? You mean that wiener-on-a-stick kid?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes. I, uh – I heard his distress call this morning.”

“On what, angel radio? Dean said you shut that down.”

“Well,” he said, “my penance, it's going well, and I thought it was time to turn it back on. I've, uh... been helping people, Y/N.”

You managed a smile for him. “That’s great, Cassie. Alright. So, who snatched Heaven's most adorable angel?”

He gave you a knowing look. “Crowley.”

You sighed and scratched at the back of your head. “Great.”

“Samandiriel is being held in the general vicinity of Hastings, Nebraska.”

“The general vicinity? That's all you got?”

“Yes, which is why I need your help. It seems this is gonna involve... talking to people.”

You managed a grin then and walked forward to pat him on the shoulder. “Come on, Cas. I thought you were a hunter now.” You move past him and sat down at the table in front of Sam’s laptop. 

You heard him sigh and move to stand behind you. “Well... I thought so, too, but... it seems I – I lack a certain –“

“Skill?” You opened the laptop and slammed it shut again when a loud moan emitted from the speakers – how you forgot about the porn you’d been watching eluded you. There was silence for a moment as you debated whether or not Cas had seen it. To be safe, you glanced over your shoulder at him and said, “You saw nothing.” You slowly opened the laptop again and blocked the screen from Cas’s view with a hand as you closed the window. “Alright,” you said once you had Google up and running. “What am I looking for?”

“Well, when you torture an angel, it screams. That kind of pain, it creates a ripple effect of strange incidents.” You nodded and typed ‘Nebraska News, Hastings’ into the search bar. You froze when Cas said, “Where's Sam and Dean?”

You swallowed hard. “Sam's gone. And Dean … well, I think he might be gone too. Or at least, he will be soon. It's all right. We'll, uh, find Samandriel ourselves.”  
You clicked on a link and it took you to a news article about tornados popping up in Nebraska.

****

You and Cas ended up heading to Geneva, Nebraska in a stolen car when you found an article about a bush combusting into flame and landing a man in the hospital. It seemed weird enough.

You entered Mr. Hinckley’s hospital room with a smile and a fake press badge stuck to your suit jacket. 

“Mr. Hinckley?” you said when you spotted him in bed with bandages wrapped around his head and arms. What little skin you could see seemed burnt to a crisp. You kept the smile in place – it was that or act like a bitch and take all your problems out on him. Something told you that wouldn’t get you very far in Cas’s case. 

Mr. Hinckley’s eyes turned to you after a failed attempt at moving his head. “Hi,” you said. “Uh, we're from the, uh, Geneva Gazette. I wanted to ask you a few questions about your ambush.” You chuckled at your own joke, the smile falling from your face when you realised Cas and Mr. Hinckley weren’t laughing with you.

“Yeah, well... I'd laugh, too, if it didn't feel like the sun just ate my face,” Mr. Hinckley said.

“It's a metaphor,” Cas said in your ear. 

You gave him a bitchface you were sure Sam and Dean would be proud of before turning back to Mr. Hinckley.

“Sorry,” you said. You pulled a notebook and pen from the inner pocket of your jacket and prepared to jot down notes. “Uh, now, in the police report, it said that the, uh – the bush, it talked to you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mr. Hinckley said, “I know it sounds crazy, but, yeah.”

“And what did it say?” Cas said.

“No clue. Sounded like Klingon to me.”

“Gonna need exact words,” you said.

“Are you serious?”

Cas leaned forward to look at you before turning back to Mr. Hinckley. “That's her serious face, yes.”

You rolled your eyes. “As much as you can remember, Mr. Hinckley.”

He sighed. “Sounded something like... sol-voch. Yeah. Sol-voch-tay.”

You and Cas shared a look before you thanked Mr. Hinckley and headed out into the hallway with Cas.

“What do you think, Cassie?” you said as the two of you headed towards the exit. “Mean anything to you?”

“Yes,” Cas replied, his tone urgent. “It's Enochian. It means 'obey'.”

“Obey? Obey what?”

“I don't know. But the amount of pain an angel must be in not just to manifest through shrubbery but to burn – Y/N...” he put a hand on your shoulder and stopped you in the middle of the hall, “we have to find him before it's too late.”

You nodded and gave him a reassuring look. “Okay. Okay, well, look, a sign like that – Samandriel can't be too far, right? So we'll just start at the bush and work our way out.” You smiled, trying to ease his anxiety.

He frowned at you. “And look for what exactly? Crowley could have him anywhere.”

You let the smile fall from your face when you realised you couldn’t cheer him up with jokes this time. “Well, if I know Crowley, the place will be swarming with demons, so we'll   
just drive till we see ugly.”

He pressed his lips together. “Can’t you just summon him and talk to him? Demand that he brings Samandriel back. He’ll listen to you.”

You gave him a sad smile and placed your hands on his shoulders. “It doesn’t work like that, Cassie. He won’t just do what I ask him.”

Cas shook you off and gave you an irritated look. “No, you just don’t want to ask him. Crowley isn’t your friend, Y/N. Not now that you’re working with the Winchesters. Not now that he’s the King of Hell. Stop trying to stay on his good side.” He disappeared before you could defend yourself. 

****

You sat on the edge of the old bathtub in a room at the local hotel. You were in a pair of panties and a tank top. You hadn’t worn one of the boy's flannels since Sam and Dean left you in the cabin. It didn’t feel right to wear them, not when you were sure they didn’t feel the same way about you anymore. 

You took a deep breath and tensed your hand around the handle of your knife. You pressed the blade against the skin of your thigh and blew the breath back out when you couldn’t force the blade into your skin. Thirty-two times. Thirty-two times you had pressed the blade against your skin and tensed to dig it into flesh. Thirty-two times you chickened out. 

You watched as a tear fell from your cheek and landed on the pale scars that had made it into the flesh of your thigh years before. It had been so long since you carved them into your skin. You’d stopped cutting well before you ended up in the mental health institution. You’d had urges since, but nothing as bad as you were feeling then. 

All you could think about was how stupid you’d been to think you could take back your life. You thought things were changing, but all you’d done was clung to the first lifeboats that passed you by and didn’t let go. Now those lifeboats were trying to shake you off, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

You took in another deep breath and looked up at the ceiling to blink your eyes clear of tears. You blew it back out with a low whine and looked down at your old scars again. 

What was the point in cutting yourself? You already knew it wouldn’t take the pain away. Not permanently, at least. There was only one thing that would permanently take the pain away. 

You moved the blade to the inside of your thigh, right over the artery. Cas didn’t need you now. He knew how to find Crowley and Samandriel, and he would be able to handle the demons. Neither Sam nor Dean wanted you anymore. They’d made that blatantly clear on numerous occasions. 

And Crowley … what if Cas had been right? You were always trying to stay on his good side, but thinking about it, you realised Crowley had never tried to stay on yours. Had he just been using your twisted love to his advantage? Would he even care when a maid found you dead on that bathroom floor? 

You breathed in again, tensed your hand around the blade and … did nothing. You let out a sound of frustration and threw the knife to the floor. You couldn’t do it. You’d lived your entire life in a perpetual state of pain, you couldn’t go out in pain. 

After a moment of thought, you swiped the small bottle of anti-depressants from the top of the sink. You stared at your reflection in the mirror for three seconds before you couldn’t stand to look at yourself anymore. 

Without a second thought, you turned the tap on and twisted the cap off of your medication bottle. You tipped as many of them into your hand as you could, and shoved them into your mouth. Leaning down, you slurped water into your mouth. 

It took you five tries to swallow down all the pills. Five times you told yourself you deserved this. That this was for the best. Five times you thought of Sam and Dean and Cas and all the other people you loved. Five times you told yourself they didn’t love you back. 

****

“There’s something wrong with her, Dean,” Cas said on the phone. 

“With everything that’s been going down with Sam, I think she’s allowed to act a little weird, Cas,” Dean said as he gripped the steering wheel of his Impala with one hand and his mobile with the other. 

“No. This is different. She’s acting the same way she always does. She’s putting on a brave face. There’s something really wrong with her. I can feel it. And it’s not just about you or Sam. This is …”

Dean dragged his bottom lip between his teeth. “What, Cas? What aren’t you telling me?”

Cas sighed. “This feeling that I’m getting from her … it’s the same feeling I got when we first met.”

Dean frowned. “You mean when she was a kid?

“Yes. I’m worried about her, Dean. I keep hoping that she’ll open up and say something, but … I got angry at her when she didn’t. We were at the hospital and … I think I made it worse.”

Dean sighed. “It’s alright, Cas. I’m sure she’s fine. Look, Y/N left me a note saying she was going to Nebraska with you, so I’m pulling into that motel you were talking about now. With a bit of luck, she’ll be there. I’ll talk to her.” There was silence on the other end. “Cas? She’s gonna be alright, man. Thanks for … for looking out for her.”

“Of course,” Cas said. “Call me if I can help.”

Dean hung up and pulled into a space just outside your motel room. He was out of the car and through the door in seconds, he wouldn’t admit it, but Cas had shaken him up. If he hadn’t been worried about you before, he would be now.

“Y/N?” he called when he didn’t immediately see you. “Baby?”

He looked to the bathroom door and pulled his gun the moment he saw your foot jutting out from behind it. He shouldered it open, covering the bathroom with his aim before he saw the pill bottle lying next to your motionless body, and a puddle of vomit. 

“Y/N!” He tucked the gun into his waistband and pulled you into his lap as he knelt to the ground. No matter how much he patted your cheek and called your name, you didn’t wake up. You didn’t make a sound, let alone move. He pressed his fingers to the pulse in your neck. It was so sluggish that for a moment, he thought he’d lost you. But it was there. 

“Dammit!” After looking around desperately, he dragged you to the toilet, positioned your head over it and shoved two fingers into your throat. For a second nothing happened, and then he heard you choke and your back arched up as your stomach emptied most of the pills into the toilet bowl. 

“Good girl,” he said as he rubbed your back. “Come on, baby. I know there’s more in there. God, why would you do this?”

You fell against him, and he felt his heart break at the sound of your rasping, too-short breaths. Choking sounds echoed through the room and tears rolled down his face as he realised you were choking on your own vomit. He looked to the ceiling and brokenly screamed Cas’s name. 

He couldn’t watch you die like this. And he had no idea what to do. He knew it was too late to call an ambulance. You’d be dead by the time they got there and he’d be left to explain why his girlfriend felt the need to kill herself. He’d have to explain exactly what he saw. He could barely watch it, let alone explain it to strangers. 

He pulled you closer to him and pressed a kiss to your head as a sob wracked through his body. “Cas!” he screamed again. The angel was there in seconds. His horrified look confirmed everything Dean had feared. “Please,” he begged. “Do something.”

Cas leaped into action. He pressed the palm of his hand against your forehead, stumbling back with a gasp when the bright light died down. Dean didn’t pay attention to his lack of stamina. He was too busy cuddling you closer and running his fingers through your knotted hair as your eyes slowly pried open.

“Dean?” your voice was sluggish, and Dean realised that you weren’t out of the woodworks yet.

Cas straightened with visible difficulty. “I healed what I could, but she didn’t expel all of the pills. She may need a hospital, Dean.”

At the word ‘hospital’, you pushed against Dean’s chest weakly. “No … no hossspal. They … they send me to psych.” 

“Shh, baby,” Dean cooed in your ear. “No one’s taking you anywhere.”

“Dean,” Cas warned.

“You heard her,” Dean snapped. “They’ll send her back. With her history … I don’t think she’d be getting out in a few days.”

“She needs –”

“Are you gonna help or not? ‘Cause if not, you better leave now.”

Cas pressed his lips together and sighed out through his nose. “Of course I’ll stay to help.”

****

Dean was sitting in a chair watching you sleep in his bed. His elbows were resting on his knees, which hadn’t stopped bouncing since he sat. Cas was on the edge of the bed next to yours, watching your face with a solemn look. 

Dean had done some research to figure out how to help you without a hospital. His heart sunk when he realised everything he’d done had been wrong. He wasn’t meant to move you. He wasn’t meant to make you throw up. He wasn’t meant to put you in the shower (which is what he’d done minutes after you’d woken up). And he definitely wasn’t supposed to let you fall asleep.

He hadn’t done one thing right. Story of his life. 

His legs stopped bouncing when he saw you stir. He was on his feet and standing at the end of the bed the moment you sat up and dragged a hand over your face.  
“How – how do you feel?” he said softly.

“Like shit,” you replied, avoiding his eyes.

“Cas.” The angel stood and took a step towards you with a raised hand but you waved him off.

“No,” you said. “It’s fine. I’m not gonna … I just feel like I have a hangover is all.”

Dean hadn’t realised how tense he’d been until his body relaxed at hearing those words. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. 

Then the anger set in.

How could you do that to him? How could you not think about the consequences of your actions? Did you not care about the devastation you would have left behind? Did you not care about the pain you would have caused all the people that loved you? Didn’t you think?

“What the hell were you thinking?” he said.

He watched as you curved in on yourself and lowered your eyes even more. The uncharacteristic submissiveness had his anger dying at the edges, but he couldn’t let you avoid this conversation. He’d just watched the love of his life writhe on the brink of death, he wasn’t about to go easy on you.

You shrugged, and his anger burned hotter.

“That’s not good enough, Y/N,” he snapped.

You wiped at a tear that escaped to your cheek but he still refused to feel sorry for you. Every time he felt himself give in, he thought of what you looked like lying on that dirty bathroom floor. He reminded himself that you were the one who caused it. 

“I was alone,” you said meekly.

“What?” You jumped at his shout.

“Alone. Like when I was a kid. You and Sam were gone … and then Cas left and – and I didn’t think you felt the same way about me anymore because … nothing has been the same since … you were just all gone and I didn’t think any of you were coming back.” You choked out a sob. “I didn’t have anyone when I was a kid and I – I couldn’t live like that again. I just –”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean shouted. You jumped again and let out another sob as you pulled the covers tighter against you. “After everything I’ve done – we’ve done – to show you that we love you … and all of a sudden you think what? That it’s all fake? That’s bullshit! Do you have any idea how irresponsible –”

“Dean!” Cas snapped.

“Shut up,” Dean growled. 

“Dean, stop!” When Dean looked as though he’d keep going, Cas strode forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, zapping him out of the room and next to the Impala. Cas stumbled back and shook his head to try and straighten out his vision. Again, Dean ignored it.

“What the hell, Cas?”

“You need to stop, Dean. You’re not listening to her. Think – really think – about how things have been going between you, Sam and her. Can you honestly say that you’ve been putting in as much effort as you did at the beginning of this relationship?” Dean pressed his lips together and said nothing. “She forgave Sam for Amelia. And what does he do? He goes right back to her when he thinks she needs help. And then you drive to Texas without Y/N, come back to tell her Sam isn’t coming back and then leave again. What is she supposed to think? Have you not noticed how insecure she’s been in this relationship lately? You think she just forgot what Sam did when she forgave him? You think that she didn’t – for one second – believe that you could do the same? Or that Sam would do it again? She thinks you’ve fallen out of love with her, Dean. Yelling at her isn’t going to prove her wrong. It’s going to make her feel worse.”

Dean licked his lips as he fought back tears. “I just … seeing her like that … it …”

“I know,” Cas said softly. “I was scared too.”

Dean sighed and dragged a hand down his face before pushing past Cas and heading back into the motel room. Cas didn’t follow him, and Dean’s face was tear stained by the time he sank down onto the edge of your bed. You were curled up in a ball with your back to him, the covers pulled up to your chin.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said quietly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

He heard you sniff and he swallowed back down the next wave of tears. “It’s okay. I deserved it. You were right.”

Your voice was so light and steady and reassuring that it had the wave of tears rushing forward again, and this time, he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t truly realise how bad you were until you said that. The Y/N he fell in love with would never have just rolled over like that. She would have put him in his place and thrown a pillow at him for good measure.

“No, baby,” he said through the tears, “you didn’t. You really didn’t. And I’m so sorry for all the crap me and Sam have been putting you through. I had no idea you were hurting so bad. God, you’re – you’re so brave all the time. And you always put on a smile for us … and I just … we never knew.”

He closed his eyes when he felt you shift and a hand landed on his back. “No, Dean, it’s okay,” you said. “I was okay. I just … I had a bad day is all. There was nothing for you and Sam to see. It was just a bad day.”

Dean felt his lip quiver as he looked at your reassuring face. Just a few hours ago, you’d been on the brink of death, and you were playing it down as if it were nothing just   
because you didn’t want him to be upset and blame himself.

What the hell had he done to deserve a woman like you? How could you sit there after what happened, saying you’d just had a bad day? How could you be so selfless? 

A sound tore its way out of his throat, it was a half sob, half disbelief. “Don’t – don’t do that. Don’t act like it was nothing just to save my feelings. You almost died, Y/N. And it was my fault. Sam’s too. Don’t shoulder the blame like you do everything else. Please … just let me feel guilty. I need to … I need to know what this feels like so I never make the same mistake again.”

With that heart wrenching reassuring look still on your face, you pulled him to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and laid his head on your chest when you laid back   
into the pillows. 

After a moment of silence, you finally said, “You’re – you’re not gonna tell Sam about this, are you?”

“Of course I am,” he growled. He softened his tone when he felt you flinch under him. “Sorry. Yes, I am. He needs to know, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you said after a short while. “Just … could you give it a few days? He’s gonna want to go all puppy dog on me. I can’t take that right now.”

****

Despite Dean agreeing to a couple days, it took him almost a week to tell Sam what had happened. He didn’t tell you, but he was just as hesitant about telling him as you had   
been. Unfortunately, waiting that long meant that when Dean finally did tell him, it had been in person right outside of Garth’s boathouse. 

You’d begged Cas to let you back in on his case once he’d told you you’d made a full physical recovery. He was still unsure of your mental state, but when you managed to slap on a fake smile, he agreed. He was under no illusions, he knew that you were still struggling, but he hoped that tracking down Samandriel might distract you at the very least. Dean seemed on board with it, though Cas could tell that he needed the distraction just as much as you did.

After the three of you tracked down the warehouse Crowley was in, Dean was quick to admit that you all needed a helping hand. The place was crawling with demons and covered in angel warding. 

Cas had suggested he go get Sam, an idea that was promptly shut down by Dean. Your heart ached at the mere mention of his name. He still hadn’t called you, and you were beginning to think that he never would. You even debated arguing with Dean again about him telling Sam about your suicide attempt. It was clear Sam didn’t want to be there, so what was the point in worrying him unnecessarily? 

So the three of you stood in Garth’s boathouse with Kevin seated at his desk while he went through his notes on the tablet.

“Where’s Garth?” you asked with a forced smile.

Kevin didn’t look up from his notes. “Supply run? I don't know. Sort of lost track of when he comes and goes. You guys need help with something? I'm working here.”

You felt your self-worth take a hit. You weren’t really sure what you’d expected when you saw Kevin. The two of you were friendly, so maybe you had hoped for a smile and a hug? You’d barely gotten a glance from him. You silently scolded yourself. You were being selfish. The kid was probably worn out, and it wasn’t like you were the only one he wasn’t paying attention to. 

You didn’t know how he knew, but Dean seemed to pick up on your sudden drop in mood. The moment he picked up on it, he squeezed your hand in his and lifted his other to cup your face. He pressed his lips to your temple before giving you a soft smile.

“You look horrible,” Cas said bluntly as he stared at Kevin. You let out a short laugh (the first real one since your attempt) and Dean smiled again as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in against him.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Kevin said.

You pressed your lips together and ignored the little voice in your head that had made you feel like crap just moments ago. 

“He's right,” you said. “Are you okay, Kevin?”

“Fine. I'm just... in the middle of this.”

You nodded, fighting again to ignore the stupid voice in your head that said your worth depended on Kevin liking you. 

“And?” Dean said. “Any luck?”

Kevin sighed. “Interpreting half a demon tablet? No. I got nothing.”

Dean nodded. “All right, well, buck up, 'cause, uh, we need some more of that demon TNT ASAP.”

Kevin turned to look at the three of you. “You used it all?”

“Yeah, so let's whip up another batch.”

“Sure. West Bank witch hazel, skull of Egyptian calf, the tail of some random-ass newt that may or may not be extinct –“

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Dean said. “Ingredients are hard to come by, huh?”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “That's just the first three ingredients.”

“Give me the list,” Cas said. “I'll get what we need.”

Kevin let out another heavy sigh before he turned back to his desk and started jotting down the list of ingredients he needed.

Cas was gone the moment he had the list. It took ten minutes before Dean got impatient and began pacing. When he began clapping his hands you started feeling anxious (Kevin, the lucky bastard, just slipped on his headphones). You opened your mouth to tell him to stop but the ringing of your phone interrupted you. 

Once you saw the caller ID, you moved to stand near the door so Dean wouldn’t try to listen in and bother you. 

“Hey, I thought I told you to go underground,” you said when you answered the phone. 

“Hey, darlin’,” Benny said before giving you a short chuckle. “I am so far underground, I'm breathing through a straw. Uh, look... what happened with your friend Martin back there, it wasn't supposed to go down that way.”

You sighed and glanced at Dean. “He was far from being my friend. And your granddaughter told me everything. I know you didn’t want it to happen like that.”

“Y/N, you did this old dog a real solid, and, uh... the way you stood up for me –”

“Well, shoe on the other foot, you would have done the same.”

“Yeah,” he drawled. You were about to ask him what was wrong when he said, “I hate to ask for much else, but I don't suppose there's any chance you're anywhere near the   
Catskills?”

You frowned. “Working a case on the other side of the country. Why? What's up?” Dean looked at you then but you waved him away. 

“Yeah, just hitting a little rough patch, I guess. You know, doing this whole solo thing.”

“Benny... one day at a time, man.”

You heard him sigh, and you sank your teeth into your bottom lip. “You know what? Uh... A cup of coffee sure would do me good.”

You nodded. “All right, as soon as I'm done with this case, I'll, uh... I'll be there, okay?”

“Yeah. All right, darlin’. Thank you. I just … I miss you, you know?”

You smiled – a real smile – as tears pricked the back of your eyes. You wondered how you could ever forget that Benny had your back. Then you wondered what he’d think if he ever found out what you’d done. You thought it best he didn’t know. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I, uh, I miss you too.”

You hung up and joined Dean who was asking Kevin about his mum. 

“You kicked your mum to the curb?” Dean said.

Kevin sighed and slid his headphones off. “She was too distracting. I couldn't focus. The angels said I had to go to the desert to learn the word of God, alright? So... this is my desert.”

“Yeah, but your mum's your mum.”

You smirked. “Not everyone is their mum’s number one fan, Dean.”

He slapped your ass in retaliation as Kevin said, “I can't enjoy a world I need to save, Dean. I can enjoy it when this is all over with. For right now... there's nothing more important than this.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and went to the cupboard to find something to eat. You rubbed a hand over your eyes as exhaustion began to set in. Kevin let you go in the back and lie in his bed for a while, but you didn’t even get five minutes of a good nap in before you heard wings and arguing. 

With a sigh, you rolled out of bed and headed back into the main area of the boat, stopping in your tracks beside Dean when you saw Sam standing next to Cas.

“Sam?”

Sam’s eyes shifted to you. You thought you saw his features soften from the anger that they’d been twisted in before, but you weren’t sure if it was real or just wishful thinking on your part. 

“Hey,” he said. Irritation suddenly burned in your stomach. You deserved more than a ‘hey’? You deserved an explanation, right? You said nothing.

Dean’s tongue flicked out across his bottom lip as he looked down at you. Looking back at his brother, he said. “We need to talk. Outside.”

You knew he was going to tell Sam about what happened. At first, it seemed that Sam was going to fight him on the matter, but whatever he saw in his brother’s face had him following Dean outside. 

Once they left, you forced a smile to your face and looked at Cas. “So, did you get what we needed?”

He pressed his lips together with a solemn nod, and you knew he saw right through your act. 

****

“You waited a week to tell me this?” Sam yelled. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear that over the phone,” Dean growled. “And I wasn’t gonna leave her just to go see you. And I sure as hell wasn’t taking her to Texas.”  
“That’s a load of crap, Dean. You just didn’t want to tell me.”

Dean scoffed. “What, you think this was just some twisted way to keep her to myself?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, Dean. Is it?”

Dean let out a short, humourless laugh. “You’re unbelievable. But yeah, you’re right. I didn’t want to tell you. And you wanna know why? Because we caused this, Sam! We did this to her. You didn’t see what I saw. You didn’t see her on the ground covered in – in …” He stopped and swallowed before he said anything else. “You didn’t hold her in your arms while she was dying. How the hell was I supposed to say all of that over the phone?” 

Sam tunneled his fingers through his hair and tugged. He wasn’t sure what to say to that. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to handle being in the situation Dean had been in. Thankfully, he was saved from saying anything when you came down the ramp and onto the dock. 

You gave Dean a small smile and he tucked you against his side with an arm. 

“I know you guys wanted privacy. But Cas is annoying me. Keeps asking if I want to go to Disneyland. Something about it being the happiest place on earth,” you said. 

“We wanted privacy from them, not you,” Dean murmured. “Never from you.” 

Dean leant down to kiss the top of your head and you looked at Sam as he did so. Sam felt his breath catch in his throat when you looked at him. He realised, that even after all this time, you still managed to make his heart skip a beat. 

He thought about all the things that made him fall in love with you. Your wit, your humour, your mind, the way your hair would only sit a certain way (no matter how hard you fought against it), your eyes, your smile, your laugh, everything. He’d fallen in love with everything and he’d missed all of it when he’d been in Texas. He’d wanted to call you. So many times, he had picked up his phone only to throw it back on the bed in frustration when he couldn’t get up the courage. 

Every night he’d tossed and turned, wanting to just hear you whisper in his ear and fall asleep with your skin pressed against his. But he knew he’d screwed up. He’d taken off without telling you anything (all because he’d been pissed about Benny). After that, he’d been too much of a coward to face you. He knew you’d be upset about it, even more so because he’d run off to Amelia. 

The moment Dean said you’d tried to take your own life, his fear had seemed trivial. Sam knew that you hadn’t done it just because of anything he or Dean had done, you’d been sick and battling suicidal thoughts long before you met him. But he did know that his and Dean's actions had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Sam wasn’t sure he could face what he’d caused. 

Dean didn’t give him a choice. 

Sam’s brother pulled his arm from around you (Sam didn’t miss how difficult that small movement had been for his brother – he didn’t think he’d be able to stop touching you either if he’d seen what Dean had). 

“You guys should talk,” Dean said as he left. 

Sam watched helplessly as you shifted on your feet and looked anywhere but at him. He didn’t have a clue what to say. Dean had told him why you did what you did, and Sam didn’t have any idea how to tell you he loved you. He didn’t know how to say you were his entire world. He didn’t know how to tell you, you meant everything to him, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

So he said nothing. 

Suddenly, you licked your lips and ran your fingers through your hair. “I’m not going to stand here and explain myself to you.”

Sam nodded, his hands clenching and unclenching as he fought the urge to touch you. “You don’t have too.”

“No, I don’t. You don’t deserve that.”

He nodded again. “You’re right. I don’t.” 

You made a sound of frustration but he just stood there and watched you. “What the hell, Sam? Why aren’t you getting mad?” 

He frowned in confusion. “Because … I-I-I’m not mad, Y/N. Am I upset? Of course. It’s taking everything I have to not just crush you in my arms right now. But I’m not angry at you. I’m the one who screwed up. Again. I’m not too proud to admit that.”

You shook your head and sniffed as you looked away from him. Sam realized he’d do anything to just have you look at him again.

“I thought you loved me,” you said.

Sam looked to the top of Garth’s boathouse and wondered for a moment if he’d be able to climb to the top of it and scream to the world how much he loved you. He settled for just telling you. “I do love you.” It fell weakly from his mouth. It didn’t feel good enough. Maybe he should climb the boat. 

He took a step forward, prepared to make a fool of himself when you looked at him, with tears in your eyes, and said, “Do you? Because it doesn’t feel like it, Sam. You know, you talk a big game. You say a lot of sweet things but when it comes to the crunch you can’t step up. The moment you thought Amelia needed you, you dropped everything and left. You left me, Sam! For her! Can you really not see why I don’t believe you when you say you love me?”

Sam looked to the ground in shame as his eyes watered in the face of your heartbreak. Somehow, he didn’t think climbing to the top of the boat would help anymore. Because you were right. Sam told you he loved you every day, and while that was nice, he’d never done anything that backed up what he was saying with actions. He knew you weren’t asking for the world. You weren’t an expensive dinner and jewelry kind of girl. It was the little things that made you smile. And it had been a long while since he’d done any of the little things.

You took a step towards him and his hand itched to reach out for you. “You told me if you ever screwed up like this again, you wouldn’t bother trying to win me back because you thought I deserved better. Well, you’re right, I do deserve better. I deserve to be loved by someone who never makes me feel insecure. Dean’s on strike two. But you just hit strike three. When we find Samandriel, I want you to go and live whatever apple pie life you want to live with whoever you want. But we’re done here, Sam.”

With a hardened face, you turned your back on him, and Sam felt himself crumble beneath the weight of your rejection. 

****

Night had fallen when the four of you pulled up to the factory that Cas had tracked Crowley to earlier that week. You crawled out of the back seat, a little irritated that you’d been delegated back there while Sam got the front seat, despite the fact Dean was just as pissed off at him. 

Unfortunately, it was exhausting enough being angry at one Winchester, you didn’t think you could hold a petty grudge against Dean on top of it. Not to mention, he’d had a hard enough time after what you’d put him through.

He reached for your hand and pulled you in against him the moment you were both out of the car.

“So,” Cas said once you and Dean met him and Sam at the front of the car, “there are four main points of warding – north, south, east, and west – and four Enochian symbols, like this...” he pulled a texta from his coat pocket and lifted your hand to draw an incomplete star on your palm, “that you need to destroy before I can enter.”

“Okay,” Dean said as he tugged you away from Cas and back into the warmth of his body, “so, what? We go in, take care of the hell mooks, and you extract the angel?”

“Yes. After killing so many, I need to save at least this one.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said.

“Okay,” Dean said as he pulled out his demon knife. “Let's do this.”

Sam and Dean went to enter the warehouse, but Cas stopped you before you could follow them. When you gave him a curious look, he pulled his angel blade from the inside   
pocket of his jacket and gave it to you. “Here. This doesn't just work on angels. It kills demons, too.”

You took it and gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Cassie.”

“It’s the least I can do. I want you to know that I’m sorry –”

“Cassie,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to apologise. Dean told me why you got angry and left the hospital. I should be the one apologising to you.”

He frowned and tilted his head. “I don’t understand. What could you have to apologise for?”

“For not trusting you enough to come to you. For not believing that you still cared about me, even though you’ve never given me a reason to not to. Well … since we found each other again, anyway.” You chuckled at you awful attempt of a joke.

“You don’t need to apologise for any of that. I know you trust me, Y/N. And if you ever forget that I love you again, well I’ll-I’ll just have to remind you.” He smiled like he’d told a joke, and you laughed with him.

You counted yourself lucky to have someone like Cas in your life.

****

It hadn’t taken long to track down the demon with the keys to the warehouse, and it took even less time to take him out and swipe the keys. Once inside, the three of you split up, holding a can of spray paint each, and searched for the warding. You’d managed to cross most of them out without a hiccup. It was the last two that caused the most trouble.   
You’d had to save Sam’s ass from two demon’s. And before any of you could get to the last ward, you’d had to use up the demon bombs to carve a path. 

You knew you were getting close when Samandriel’s screams began bouncing off the walls. Thankfully, the last ward was on the locked door that led into the room where Samandriel was being held. 

“Alright, any time now, Cas,” Dean said after he spray painted an ‘x’ over it.

Cas appeared moments later, almost doubled over and panting.

“Cassie!” You rushed to him, but he gently brushed you off as he straightened. “It must be the sigils,” he said. “I'm not at full power.”

“Guys,” you said as you looked at the other sigils that covered the walls. “Help me get rid of this stuff.”

“No, wait!” Cas said. “There's no time. Samandriel won't last much longer.”

Dean went straight to the lock on the door and began picking it as you handed Cas back his angel blade. “Here, Cassie, take this.”

He took it from you, his face twisted in pain. The moment Samandriel screamed again, Cas’s hands flew up to cover his ears as he grimaced. 

When Dean failed to pick the lock, he started trying to force the handle open. “Dean, hurry up,” Sam said. “Come on!”

Dean growled in frustration when the door still didn’t budge and banged his fist against it. Cas kept grimacing as Samandriel’s screams grew more frantic. He looked at the door in horror as he backs up into the wall and slid to the ground. 

“Cassie.” You crouched in front of him, trying to force him to look at you as the brothers began throwing their weight at the door instead. 

Dean turned to the two of you panting and threw his hands up in the air. “Cas? Anytime now.”

“He can’t, Dean,” you said as you cupped Cas’s face in your hands and tried to bring him out of his own head.

By the time Sam and Dean had finally broken the door down, Samandriel had stopped screaming, Cas was back on his feet and a demon that wasn’t Crowley was the only one left   
in the room with Samandriel. It took all of ten seconds for another demon to find his way into the room. 

You let Sam and Dean take care of them as you rushed to Samandriel’s side with Cas dragging his feet behind you. 

You felt your heart sink when you saw the head brace on him, and the blood that dripped from where the screws had been drilled into his head.

As Cas pulled them out meticulously and with far more patience than you could ever have, you cupped Samandriel’s face in your hands and smiled at him.

“Hey, buddy,” you said. “Remember me? We’re here to get you out, okay? We’ll get you all cleaned up and you’ll be good as new.”

He didn’t say anything, but you could see the relief and gratefulness in his eyes, and that was enough for you. 

Moments later, Cas had the head brace off his head. Samandriel stared up at him in awe, and you had a second to remember that Samandriel thought he was dead before Dean was shouting for Cas to leave with him. 

Once they were gone, you turned to see one of the demons dead with the other writhing beneath Dean, bargaining for his life. 

“There's so much you don't know,” the demon said. “You need me.”

The moment Dean nodded, you stormed forward with clenched teeth and sent your booted foot right into the demon’s temple. If the human he was inhabiting hadn’t been dead by then, that kick would have killed him.

Dean chuckled as he glanced up at you. “I guess you just got your answer, pal. Sorry, gotta keep the wife happy.”

True to his word, Dean ganked the demon without another moment’s hesitation.

It would be weeks before you realised he’d called you his wife and you hadn’t batted an eyelash.

****

It had all been for nothing. The entire case was for nothing. 

You’d exited the warehouse, feeling triumphant and closer to contentment than you’d felt in a while, only to find Samadriel dead on the ground and Cas standing over him with a bloodied angel blade and a vacant look on his face.

You fell to your knees beside Samandriel and drew his head into your lap. It was useless, but you checked for a pulse anyway. There was none.

“Cas! What the hell happened?” Sam said.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. He didn’t look at you.

“He was compromised,” Cas said. “He came at me. I killed him in self-defense.” Blood began trickling from the corner of his eye and he wiped it away.

“Cas, you okay?” Dean said.

“My vessel must have been damaged in the melee. I have to go. Samandiriel's remains belong in Heaven.” Cas knelt and lifted Samandriel from your lap before thanking you and disappearing. You were left with a chill in your spine and a bad taste in your mouth.

****

You were back in Rufus’s cabin, doing something you never thought you would do. After spray-painting the last Enochian angel-warding symbol on the door, Sam turned to you and Dean.

“Okay,” he said. “That should do it. Cas can't see or hear us now.”

“Okay, what the hell?” Dean said.

“I know.”

“I told you something was off with him since he got back from Purgatory.”

Sam closed the space between the three of you. “So, what, you think someone's messing with him or something?”

“Who?” you said.

“Angels?”

“Why would the angels have him kill another angel?” Dean growled.

Sam shrugged.

You sighed and rubbed a hand over your eyes. “It’s fine, Sam. We’ve got this. You should go.”

He frowned at you. “What?”

“Don't you have a life to get back to?”

“And that’s my cue to go to Taco Bell,” Dean said. 

Sam didn’t speak until Dean closed the front door behind him. He flicked his tongue across his bottom lip as you leaned against the back of the couch. 

“Yeah. A white picket fence is what I want. I want a dog, and – and a wife, and a family. At least that was what I wanted. I’ve come to realise, that life is everything to me … but only if you’re in it.”

You scoffed. “I told you we’re done, Sam. I told you to leave after we found Samandriel.”

Sam closed the space between the two of you, his face as determined as ever. “No, you told me to live the apple pie life I wanted, with whoever I wanted. Well, that’s what I’m doing. You don’t get to just tell me we’re done and expect me to walk away. I’m not letting you go that easily, Y/N. Not this time. I don’t care if you scream and cry and throw things at me. You can curse me all the way to Hell, I’m still not gonna leave you.” You swallowed thickly and forced yourself to meet his eyes. “You’re the love of my life,” he said softly. “You’re the woman that I want to marry one day. I won’t let you walk away from this. From us.”

After a long moment of him standing there, staring down at you, you sniffed and cleared your throat. “Fine. You wanna try this again, delete her number.” 

“It was done before I left Texas.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You pushed your fingers through your hair as a tear finally escaped and fell down your cheek. You felt so stupidly jealous. And you couldn’t figure out if you were being irrational or reasonable. You felt like you were going crazy. 

Sam placed his hands on the back of the couch, effectively trapping you between his arms. Slowly, he leant forward and pressed his forehead to yours. When you didn’t push him away, he let his face drop to the crook of your neck and his arms slide around your waist. You didn’t hug him back.

****

You sat in your own bed that night, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held your mobile to your ear and dreaded the phone call you were about to make.

Sam hadn’t asked you to do it, but you felt like you needed to after he sacrificed the life he’d wanted to try and work things out with you.

“Y/N,” Benny said as he answered the phone. “Thank you mightily, darlin’. I'm in a hard way here. How close are you?” He sounded so happy that you had to look to the ceiling and choke back a sob before you could answer him.

“I'm sorry, Benny. I, um... I'm not gonna make it,” you said.

He was silent for a moment. When he did answer, he sounded just as miserable as the last time he’d talked to you. “You mean now, or...?”

You cleared your throat. “Listen, Benny. Everything you've done for me, I will never forget, but, uh... This is it.”

“End of the line?”

“End of the line.”

You could hear the forced smile in his voice as he said, “Yeah, well, I never liked these cell phones anyway.” You choked out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Aw come one now, darlin’. You’re not cryin’ over little ol’ me are ya?”

You choked out another laugh. “Am I enough of a damsel in distress for you now?”

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, you could never be a damsel in distress. I’ll bet you cry acid. But you’re still my number one girl.”

Your body shook with the force of your tears, but you refused to sob again. You cleared your throat again and sniffed. Not speaking until you were sure your voice would come out   
clear. “I’m so sorry, Benny. I wanted to see you, I really did. I didn’t want it to end like this.”

“I know that, darlin’,” he said softly. “Look, I don’t blame you, okay? I’m sure you’ve got your reasons. I still love you, you hear? And look, I’m gonna hold onto this phone. You ever need me for anything … I’ll pick up the moment you call, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, you didn’t tell him that it wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. Sam was going to make an effort for you, so you had to make an effort for him.  
You hung up before Benny could hear you fall apart. 

****

You sat on the couch later that night between Sam and Dean. Watching boxing, eating popcorn and drinking beer. None of you were okay. None of you were happy. But for once, it   
didn’t seem so bad. For once, you realised you’d much rather be miserable with them than be happy without them. Now, how fucked up was that?


	21. Nightmare and The Real Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With nothing to do but wait for Kevin to decode the tablet, you, Sam and Dean do a quick case in Michigan where you run into an old friend who manages to get your sex life back on track and take down the bad guy all in one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG THE SMUT SCENE AT THE END OF THIS IS AMAZING.

You grunted as your back hit the motel wall. Your legs squeezed around Dean’s waist as his lips met your neck and his fingers continued their ministration below the waistband of your panties.

He pulled his mouth from your neck and cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Come on, baby,” he growled. “I wanna feel you cum around my fingers before I’m inside you.”

You let out a sound that was half whine and half groan as you let your forehead press against his. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you tensed your abdominal muscle as you ground down onto his hand. You got nothing. Just like every other time in the past two weeks. 

You stopped your movements and grabbed his wrist to stop his too. “I don’t want to waste time with foreplay,” you said, making your voice as husky and sex-crazed as you could. “I just want you inside me. Right now.”

“What?” he said as he pulled back and frowned at you. When his growl went from sexy to angry, you knew he wasn’t falling for your ruse. “Are you kidding me, Y/N?”

You sighed and let your head fall back against the wall as he pulled his hand from beneath your panties. “I would’ve faked it but the last time I did that you called me out on it and got all pissy.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled back with a jerk, forcing you to drop your feet back to the ground before you fell. He ran his fingers through his hair as he walked towards the closest bed and sat on the end of it. 

“We haven’t had decent sex in weeks, Y/N,” he said. 

“Well whose fault is that?” you snapped defensively as you tugged at the bottom of his flannel to try to hide your thighs. “Every time we get into it, you stop half way through and get all pissy at me.”

“Because you keep trying to fake it,” he yelled. “If something’s not working for you then I want you to tell me! I want you to … you know, moan because you like it. Not because you think that’s what I want to hear.”

“It has nothing to do with you, Dean! If it was something you could fix then I would tell you. But it’s not. It’s my problem, and I’m trying to deal with it the best that I can. I’m sorry for trying to not let it ruin our sex life.”

He made a sound of frustration and threw his hands up in the air. “That’s what you not getting! Your problems are my problems. That’s how a healthy relationship works.”

“Yeah, well maybe this isn’t a healthy relationship.”

Dean’s head snapped back like you’d punched him. You prepared yourself for the backlash. For the fight that you’d been hoping for. When he only shook his head and dragged a hand across his mouth, you knew you’d hurt him.

“I know you and Sam have been having the same problem. He thinks it’s because you’re still pissed at him –”

“I am.”

Dean nodded. “Well, okay. Are you pissed at me then?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, Dean. We’ve been over this. You pretending to be Amelia was a shitty thing to do. But I don’t have the energy to be this pissed at both of you. Besides … I know you were trying to help Benny.”

With his only theory blown to hell, Dean twiddled his thumbs and stared at the stained carpet. 

“Since when the hell do you and Sam talk about each other’s sex lives with me, anyway?” you said when the silence became too much. For a brief moment, you mourned the time when silence didn’t feel so uncomfortable with Sam and Dean.

“Since we started having the same problems with you,” he said without looking up.

You scoffed. “Right, because if the Winchesters are good at anything, it’s talking about their problems.”

He sighed and let his head drop into his hands. “Please. Just stop. I’m finally starting to clear the air with Sam. Can we just have one week where none of us are fighting?”

You hated when he did that. Made you feel guilty for doing the things that he did. You supposed it was fair. You called him out when he was being a dick, why wouldn’t he call you out when you were being a bitch. 

“Right,” you said softly as you closed the space between the two of you. “I’m being an ass. Sorry.” It was a shitty apology, but you were never good at admitting when you were wrong.

You lifted a hand to run it through his hair, but when he didn’t reach out to you or lean into the touch you pulled it back and stepped away from him, unsure what it was he wanted from you. 

You cleared your throat. “Look, this salt and burn has been wrapped up. Sam will be back soon. We should pack our things.”

He looked up at you. “I thought you wanted to stay the night. You’re tired.”

“I can sleep in the car.” With those parting words, you left the room with a slam of the door to go and check out. 

****

You were sprawled in the back seat of the Impala, fast asleep, while Sam and Dean sat in the front. Dean had China Groove by The Doobie Brothers playing softly while Sam shuffled through some files in his lap.

“You okay, man?” Dean asked when a distressed look marred his brother’s features.

Sam looked up. “We have the most powerful weapon we've ever had against demons, and we can't find a way to use it.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, well, Kevin's on it. And when he finds something, he'll call. So we wait.” Sam sighed and scratched at his forehead as he looked back down at the files. “Look, we have both had a rough go over this past couple of weeks. Y/N’s probably copped it the worst. Neither of us has exactly been boyfriend of the year. And, uh... I know giving up your dream of a domestic life wasn't easy. Maybe we ought to take the night off – go see a flick, hit a bar or two, have some fun. You remember fun, don't you, Sammy?”

Dean sighed when Sam’s phone rang and he answered it immediately.

“Kevin, what do you got?” Sam said. “Garth. Hey. Really? Okay. Uh, yeah. Thanks, man. Oh, wait, hey – hey, Garth. Garth, are you there? H-how'd you know where we are? Uh huh. Look, it's bad enough that you're tracking us, but it's even worse when you say we've been ‘Garthed’.” Dean snorted as Sam cleared his throat and hung up. “Okay, we got to lose the GPS on our phones, because Garth has been tracking us, and other hunters, apparently, to assign cases.”

“Smart,” Dean said. “A total Bobby move. What's the deal?”

“Uh, well, it's close – Farmington Hills, Michigan. Dude got ripped limb from limb inside his locked apartment.”

“That's not good.”

Sam nodded. “Working a case. As long as we're waiting on Kevin, that'll be our fun.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah. Y/N will just love being cooped up with us for days again.”

“What do you want from me, Dean? I did everything I could to fix it. I thought her and me were good. I mean we’ve – we’ve been sleeping together – or trying to. As far as I’m concerned, the ball’s in her court. It’s like you said, we just gotta wait.”

****

The victim – Ed – laid in pieces throughout his bedroom. Literally. The guy had been drawn and quartered. On the plus side, his apartment was filled with geek merch that you could drool all over. Not to mention he owned honest-to-god chainmail. Other than a weird tree tattoo and rope burns on his ankles and wrists, there weren’t any strange marks on the body.

The neighbour upstairs had sworn that she’d heard horses. But the Sheriff insisted she’d either been watching TV or was ‘high as balls’. 

“Fortunately, we got a real lead off his cell phone,” the Sheriff said as he looked down at his notebook and lead you back out to the main living area where Sam and Dean stood. “According to the phone records, Ed's last call was from a guy called Lance Jacobsen. An accountant, also 30s, also lives alone.”

“How is he a lead?” you said as Sam and Dean shook their heads at you to confirm the EMF didn’t turn up anything. 

“The two of them talked together for 15 minutes, and then Lance sent Ed here all kinds of angry texts. Some of them were your typical threat stuff, but some were a little weird.”

“Weird how?” Sam said.

“Like, uh...’You shall bleed for your crimes against us,’ followed by the emoticon of a skull. And, uh, this beauty – ‘I am a mage. I will destroy you.’ These kids today with their texting and murder. My men just brought Lance into the station for questioning.”

“Well, we're gonna need to take first crack at the suspect.”

****

There was no way in the world Lance Jacobsen killed Ed. Firstly, he didn’t look strong enough to snap a twig let alone draw and quarter a man. Secondly, he was balling his eyes out on the interview table while you sat in front of him and grimaced. 

“Lance? Lance, just – just breathe. Just breathe. You're fine,” Dean said from his seat next to you.

“We just need to ask you a few questions,” Sam said from your other side. “Try to calm down.”

Lance wiped at his eyes and sniffed as he looked up at the three of you.

“We want to know about the, uh – the texts you sent Ed last night,” you said.

“I told them when they brought me in, those texts weren't from me,” Lance said with another sniff.

“Well, your phone and Ed's phone say otherwise,” Sam said.

“No, I mean, they were from me, but they weren't from me me.” 

You and Dean shared a look.

“Did you really think that sentence was gonna clear things up?” you said.

Lance sighed. “I'm sorry. This is all a big misunderstanding. Those text messages were from Greyfox the Mystic to Thargrim the Difficult.” You were sure the look on your face was as stupid as he sounded. “Our characters in Moondoor. Moondoor is a game that Ed and I play. We're LARPers. Live-action role-playing?”

“Right. LARPing. Good times.” 

Lance nodded. “We play Moondoor every other weekend at Heritage Park. All the info about it is on our website.”

“You guys have a website,” Dean said as he tried to stifle his smile.

“Yeah, one of the players designed it. In fact, if you log onto the site, they should have posted pictures from last night's feast. I was there all night.”

“What does any of this have to do with the texts?” Sam said.

“I play a character named Greyfox the Mystic. I'm a very, very powerful mage in the game.” He paused for dramatic effect, giving you a meaningful look.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, we get it, Merlin. Keep going.”

“Ed is... Ed was Thargrim the Difficult of the Elder Forest, son of Hargrim and Bouphin, brother to – he was Lancelot to my Merlin.”

“Ah. Well, if you guys were so tight, then why the threatening messages?”

“We were named to the queen's honour guard in anticipation of the coming Battle of Kingdoms this weekend. I thought he broke protocol, so I called Ed after game hours and accused him of cheating, and then I challenged him to a duel.”

“A duel?” Sam said.

“Wands and swords at dawn.”

“Now, when you say ‘wands’,” Dean said, “do you mean magic wands?”

Lance frowned. “No. Un-magic wands, Agent. Because what I really want in a duel is an un-magic wand. Yes! Fake wands! It's a game! I can't believe it.” He looked to the ceiling   
with a sniffle. “Oh, ye Gods! Thargrim the Difficult has fallen!”

Once he began sobbing again, you stood and brushed off your suit jacket. “Yeah, I’m done here.”

“So? Do you believe ‘Dungeons & Dragons’?” Sam said when the three of you exited the interview room.

Dean turned to him. “He didn't put a whammy on us. Those weren't crocodile tears, man. That's not our guy.”

“So what are we looking at?”

“You saw the chain mail,” you said. “This could be Fifty Shades of Greyfox for all we know.” 

Sam snorted. “All right, well, let's check out the Moondoor site; see if Lance's story checks out.” He strolled over to the police computer and typed ‘Moondoor LARP’ into the search engine. “Welcome to Moondoor, Michigan's largest LARPing game,” Sam read when he pulled up the home page for the website. 

“And I thought we needed to get out more,” Dean said.

A browse through the gallery proved Lance’s story. He was at the festival for most of the night. 

You chuckled at the drunken antics Lance seemed to be getting up to in the pictures. “Huh. It actually looks kind of awesome.” The smile fell from your face as Sam and Dean looked at you.

“There's a video,” Sam said as he clicked on the link.

You had to cringe at how cliché the video was. Though you couldn’t help stifling a smile at how cool LARPing in general looked. That is until you found out the Queen of Moons was Charlie Bradbury.

****

The case had become so odd that when you found out Lance had spewed up blood and died in the interview room with the mysterious tree tattoo popping up on his arm, you weren’t even shocked. You could almost say you were expecting it. 

After further digging, you found that the only thing Lance and Ed had in common was LARPing. Lucky for you, you knew the Queen.

After an odd encounter with a man by the name of Boltar the Furious – a man who immediately realised your FBI badges were fake – you finally tracked down Charlie in all her glory. She was on the pitch in full armour, battling with a man and using a foam sword as her weapon. She was actually good. 

When she took the guy to the ground and pulled off her helmet you couldn’t help smirking and saying, “That was so hot.” You waited for the slap on the ass that usually came when you checked out women in front of Dean. It didn’t happen. Your heart sank and settled like bad food in your stomach. 

After the spiel he and Sam had given you about you being stupid to believe they didn’t feel the same way about you anymore, you had expected that they would prove it with actions. They hadn’t. Even after you’d told them you wanted them to prove it, not say it. 

There was a time when Dean wouldn’t have just slapped your ass for checking out a woman in front of him. He would’ve groped you all day, every chance he got. Especially in front of other people. He’d whisper dirty things in your ear and tell you that you were his. It was crazy, possessive, alpha male crap but you loved it. Because he made you feel good about yourself when he did that. It let you know that he cared whether or not he was your whole world. 

He didn’t do that anymore, and it made you feel like he didn’t care. The more insecure you got about your relationship with him, the worse the sex got. You couldn’t get into it when all you could think about was whether or not he was actually seeing you while he made love to you. Sure, he was hot and intimate about it. He made eye contact and said your name. But that didn’t translate outside of the bedroom. His affection had lessened. 

And all of these problems were just with Dean. You could make a list of the problems you’d been having with Sam. He was too gentle with you and kept acting like you’d break. His dirty talk was nil and he was far from the adventurous man he had been. You couldn’t remember the last time he’d put his hand between your legs and teased you under the table in a diner. It made you wonder if he even wanted to have sex with you.

Yes, you’d told Dean that there was nothing he or Sam could do to ease your insecurities, but the truth was you were just tired of telling them what you wanted from them. You were tired of trying to keep the relationship afloat when they seemed intent on sinking it. Dean had asked what he could do to fix it, but you knew you’d just be repeating the same old mantra.

You missed the way things were before Purgatory. Yes, you hadn’t officially started a relationship with them, but at least they showed you attention and love. They made no secret of how they felt about you. And for the short time that you had worked things out with them before Sam met Benny, everything had been amazing. They’d been affectionate – outside and inside the bedroom – they’d made you feel good and cared for. 

Now they just made you feel like crap. You woke up every morning, wondering if it was even worth it. And then you’d see them all sleepy eyed and they’d kiss you good morning (usually the only kiss you’d get that day) and you’d realise that you were willing to be miserable just to stay with them. 

You hadn’t been lying when you’d told Dean you thought the relationship was unhealthy.

Charlie turned to the crowd with a smile and began some speech about honouring the dead. You sighed and scratched at your forehead as you tried to focus on the case at hand. You must have caught Charlie’s attention because suddenly her eyes landed on you and her speech cut short.

“Oh, blerg,” she said as you smiled at her. She looked to the rest of the crowd. “Uh... The queen needs some royal ‘we’ time. Talk amongst thyselves.”

She turned on her heel and stormed off towards a large tent in the opposite direction of you, Sam and Dean. You all followed – though at one point you had to stop and all but drag Dean behind you when he became distracted by the abandoned foam sword on the ground.

The inside of the tent was beautiful and very Charlie-esque. You had no doubt it was the Queen’s tent.

“Charlie,” Sam said once he’d fought his way through the curtains. 

“Charlie Bradbury is dead,” she said as she hastily began unbuckling her arm guard and shoving it into a duffel bag. “She died a year ago. You killed her.” She unbuckled her other arm guard. “My name is Carrie Heinlein. Oh, and guess what. Now you killed her, too.”

Dean tried to speak up and calm her down, but she rounded on him with a frustrated look. “No, I buried myself. Then Dick Roman went down, his company belly-up, and I figure, ‘Hey, it's all good,’ and I was fine. I got my life back. Now you're here, and if you guys are here, monsters are here.” She sighed and turned back to the duffel bag that sat at the end of her bed. “Why do I have such bad luck? What am I – some kind of monster magnet? Is there such a thing as a monster magnet? You know what? Don't answer that. I don't care. What I care about is not getting my other arm broken... or dying. So...” she picked up her duffel bag and the crown that sat next to it, “I'm dropping my sword and walking off the stage, bitches.” She dumped the crown on your head on her way to the door. “Have fun storming the castle.”

“Charlie. Charlie!” She turned to look at you. You put on your best stern face but figured much of the punch was taken away by the crown on your head. “Greyfox and Thargrim –   
uh, Ed and Lance – they're not missing. They're dead.”

****

“Drawn and quartered and bleeding out?” Charlie said as the four of you sat around a round table in her tent. The crown and her duffel bag had been set back on the bed. “Please stop talking again. So what do you think did this?”

“Well, aside from the, uh, mark...” Dean said as he slid a photo towards her that showed the tree tattoo, “and them both being LARPers, there's really not much else to go on.”  
Charlie picked up the photograph and inspected it. “Wait, I've seen this before. It's a Celtic magic symbol. At least it was in my favorite video game. Does that help? Can I go now?”

She began standing but you put a hand on her arm and made her sit back down. “It's a start,” you said, “but no. Um, listen. What can you tell us about Ed and Lance?”

She shrugged. “Good guys. Two of the best members of the queen's ever-shrinking army.”

“Ever-shrinking?” Dean said.

“My kingdom has had a lot of bad luck lately, probably 'cause of me, but …” she tapped on the photograph, “maybe it's tied to this. A month ago, one of my guys had both her ankles broken before battle. Before that, I had three people have hospital-worthy accidents while at home. You think there's any connection there?”

“Did they have any enemies in common?” Sam said.

“In real life? No. Everyone gets along famously. In the game, though...” she stood and walked towards a table on the far side of the tent. The three of you joined her and looked down at the map with groupings of different coloured figurines representing different armies. “They had tons of enemies. Red reps the followers of the Moon – my peeps. Green's for Elves, blue's for Warriors of Yesteryear, and black's for Shadow Orcs – total d-bags. This weekend is the Battle of the Kingdoms to see who wears the Forever Crown. This weekend, each faction is definitely an enemy of me and mine.”

You gestured towards the front line of the red figurines. “You know, if you, uh ... move your archers back and your broadswords men to the west...”  
“Huh. Fight the warriors,” Charlie said.

“Yep.”

“Hey, good call. What about the southern wall?”

“Guys,” Sam said.

You looked up at him. “Yeah?” He gave you a disbelieving look and spread his arms. “Right. Sorry.”

“So,” Sam continued, “maybe, uh, someone from one of the other kingdoms got a hold of real magic and started using it to weaken your army.”

Before Charlie could answer, Dean picked up one of the Turpentine figurines and moved it to the south wall. He gave her a reassuring nod when she looked at him. You gave Dean a smile and he returned it with a tight-lipped one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“But why not just come after me?” Charlie said when Sam cleared his throat. “And why the escalation?”

“Alright, we will canvass the kingdoms,” you said, a little more grouch in your voice after Dean’s coldness. “You should get out of here. We don't want you to get hurt.”

“Whoa, wait,” Sam said. “Charlie knows Moondoor a lot better than we do. We need her.”

“Sam, I think we can take care of a bunch of accountants with foam swords.”

“We need all the help we can get, Y/N. People are dying.”

“Her point,” Dean said, “which is usually yours, is that she should get somewhere safe and get back to a normal life.”

“Hey, I am right here,” Charlie said, “and I want to leave.”

“Thank you,” Dean said.

“But the queen ...” she sighed, “she has to stay. I mean, Sam is right. People are dying. That can't happen on my watch. And you know what? I am tired of running. I like my life here. I'm gonna stay and fight for it.”

The nobleness of Charlie’s speech was ruined by Sam’s ringing phone. He wasn’t on it for more than a minute before he hung up and said, “So, the toxicology report came back on Lance. Nothing. But the medical examiner said his body showed clear signs that he was killed by belladonna.”

“The porn star?” you, Dean and Charlie said simultaneously. 

There was a long pause as Sam looked at the three of you. You could pinpoint the moment he realised he was stuck with three Dean’s. 

“The poison,” he said slowly.

“Oh,” you all said.

“Um, however,” Sam continued, “they couldn't find a trace of it in his system.”

“Just like they couldn't find ropes in Ed's apartment,” Dean said.

“Charlie, I'm gonna need to borrow your laptop,” you said. 

“There are no laptops in Moondoor,” Charlie said. You threw your hands up in the air. “What? There are rules. But there is a tech tent four tents down.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “How about you guys go canvas, and Y/N and I’ll dig into these accidents and this mark?”

****

Dean stood in front of the full-length mirror with a smile as he adjusted the arm guard of the costume Charlie had told him to get into.

“Let me get this straight,” Charlie said as she lounged back in a chair. “You sent Sam a phantom text from his ex? The very ex that he broke Y/N’s heart for? Dick move, sir.”

“Yeah, not my finest hour,” Dean said as he turned to her.

“And he just dropped everything without telling her and ran back to said ex?”

“Yup.”

“Wow. You’re both dicks. It baffles me that she’s still dating both of you. God, no wonder she’s been so weird and insecure.”

“What?” Dean said.

“You heard me.”

Dean shook his head. “She’s not insecure. We sorted all that stuff out. We told her how we felt.”

“But did you show her?” When Dean gave her a dumbfounded look Charlie sighed. “How’s the sex?”

Dean let out a nervous laugh. “Woah, Charlie.”

“Shut up. I don’t want this convo anymore than you do. But it’s important.

“Okay, uh … well, it’s … plentiful … but we have trouble getting her to … uh …”

“What?” Charlie said. “Getting her to the finish line?”

“Yeah.”

“Does she get naked?”

“Okay, this is getting –”

“Dean.”

“No.” He sighed. “Not lately, anyway. It’s been a little while since I’ve seen her … you know.”

Charlie shook her head. “You guys are morons.”

“It’s not our fault,” Dean said defensively. “She said it had to do with her own issues.”

“Of course it’s your fault!” Charlie yelled. “If she’s insecure than it’s always your fault! You are her issue. You know, when I first met you three I could tell straight away that something was going on. Or, at least, you and Sam wanted something to be going on. But today? I would have thought you guys had broken up if you didn’t tell me otherwise.”

Dean scratched the back of his neck and dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. “So … what do I do?”

Charlie sighed. “Do you love her?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you do anything for her?”

“Of course.”

“Then act like that!” She threw her hands up in the air. “It’s not that hard, Dean. Women aren’t as complicated as men think we are.”

Dean sighed and sat down in a chair. “But – but what if I screw something up again? I mean, I’ve done so much crap I feel like she just doesn’t want me to be … affectionate like I used to be.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Is she still here?”

“Yeah.”

“Then she still wants you, Dean. And as long as you don’t send any more phantom texts and screw with her emotions, you’ll be fine. And if you make her feel real special, you’ll even go back to having awesome sex.”

****

Turned out the creepy tree tattoo was a Celtic symbol called the Tree of Pain. That didn’t make it less creepy, nor did the fact that it was a symbol of fairy magic. Especially since being tagged with it automatically made you the victim of fairy magic. 

You should have been in a great mood. You’d finally figured out what was killing and injuring Charlie’s subjects. You could finally narrow down the search field. Except you weren’t happy.

In fact, you felt even crappier than you did that morning. Of course, Sam didn’t get why you were in a bad mood. But why should he? It’s not like it was his fault that Maria – sorry, Gholandria the Wicked – thought he was single enough to invite back to her tent later. All while you were standing right there. 

And sure, Sam declined her offer, but he still didn’t bother to correct her assumption that he was single. 

When you finally found Dean standing by Charlie’s tent, your feet were covered in mud from all of your stomping and you were on the verge of tears.

You couldn’t even summon up a remark for Dean’s medieval attire.

“Nice outfit,” Sam said with a smile when he saw his brother.

“You love it,” Dean said. 

He moved to put an arm around you but you shook him off and took a step back – angry that he chose that moment to suddenly be affectionate with you. He shared a confused look with Sam who just shrugged and shook his head.

“Right,” you said. “Well, while you were playing dress-up, I found out that the mark –”

“Belongs to the Shadow Orcs,” Dean said with a smile.

You frowned at him. Why the hell was he acting so happy? Shouldn’t he be getting pissy at you? He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately when you got upset. 

You shook your head, your anger dying to numbness the longer he smiled at you. “Yeah,” you said as you pulled a print out from your coat and handed it to Dean. It was all the information you and Sam had found about the Tree of Pain on the Celtic Magic website. “And they're using fairy magic.”

“The Tree of Pain,” Dean said. “Awesome.”

“Whoever gets marked gets ganked,” Sam said.

“Alright, how do we stop it?”

Sam shrugged. “Find whoever cast the spell, and take them out. No more whammy, no more marks. No more marks, no more dead bodies.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, well, perfect. Our, uh, pal Boltar the chatty is getting the, uh, Shadow Orc prisoner. We're gonna do a little prisoner exchange, try to draw the king out of hiding.” He smiled down at you. “It was my idea.” You didn’t smile back, but when he reached for your hand, you let him gently take it. He was acting weird, and if you were being honest, your head hurt and you were feeling exhausted from all the stress you were feeling about him and Sam. So you let him do what he wanted and tried not to get attached to his sudden bout of affection.

When you didn’t shrug him off, Dean turned to Sam and said, “Where's Charlie?”

“She was with you,” Sam said with a shrug.

“No, I sent her to you.” Dean sighed and pulled his hand from yours so he could peek into her tent. “Charlie? Your highness?” When he got no response, he turned back to Sam. “You know what – she's got my phone. Try it.”

****

She never answered. And by the time night had fallen, you, Sam and Dean had had enough and decided to rally the forces – by forces you meant Boltar (whose real name was Gerry) and the Orc that Dean was going to do the trade with (Monty).

“I swear, if anything's happened to her,” you grumbled, watching your feet to make sure you didn’t trip over anything in the forest.

“Y/N,” Sam said, “we checked all the tents. We'll talk to these guys. We'll find her.”

After what felt like forever, your party stopped at the edge of a small clearing. You didn’t think the situation could get any stupider. And then Monty started making stupid bird   
sounds and his stupid Orc teeth kept almost falling out of his mouth. 

It worked, however. Three men approached from behind trees with flashlights in hands. They were wearing the same cloaks and teeth as Monty was.  
“Greetings, heretics,” Boltar said.

One of the Orcs stepped forward. He was the only one with the Tree of Pain symbol on a crest on his shirt, so you figured he was the King. 

“You should kneel before me, cur,” the Orc King said.

“Alright,” you said, “why don't you let me –”

“Silence!” Boltar said, your teeth clenched at his order and you had to try real hard not to pull your gun on him. He turned back to the Orcs. “Now, before we exchange, a few announcements.” The Orc King took his teeth from his mouth and stepped forward to listen. “Um, there is a peewee-league soccer playoff game tomorrow on the alpha field. We don't want to freak out the mundanes, so we got to move the Battle of Kingdoms to the beta field.”

“Alright. That's it,” you snapped as you stepped forward. “You know what? I'm gonna do this the old-fashioned way.” 

“Y/N, don’t,” Sam said as you pulled your gun from your waistband. Thankfully, Dean held his brother back before you decided shooting Sam was a better idea than shooting a stupid fake Orc King. 

Boltar stepped forward with his stupid smug face. “I told you there are –”

“Shut up,” you growled as you pushed past him and approached the Orc King. You held up the gun so he could see it. “Alright. I need real answers. This here is a real gun, see?” With your eyes still locked on his confused face, you aimed your gun at a nearby tree stump and shot it. 

“Whoa!” the Orc King screamed as he, Boltar and the rest of the orcs cowered back from you with their hands up. “Hold! Hold! Geez!”

You pointed the gun at his face, not at all deterred by his fear. “Now, start talking. Where's the Queen?!”

“I don't know!”

You gestured to his crest with the gun. “Yeah, well, your little family crest there tells a different story, pal.”

He frowned and looked down at his shirt. “This?” You nodded. “Uh, I got sick last month after this thing just appeared on my arm.” He pulled off his right gauntlet and pushed his sleeve up, showing you the same tree tattoo that all the victims had. “I thought it looked really cool, so I turned it into my family crest. I mean after my dermatologist said it wasn't malignant.”

With clenched teeth and a feeling of inadequacy, you lowered your gun. 

“Y/N,” Sam said, “he's not our guy. He's just another vic.” You glared at him. As if he hadn’t realised you’d figured that out by now.

The Orc King nodded vigorously. “My name is Max Hilby. I'm an attorney. I have no idea where the Queen is, but if you let me go right now, I won't press charges.” You looked down at your lowered gun. You were in a stupid mood, maybe shooting a stupid attorney in the foot would make you feel better. “I promise,” he said hastily when he realised that were debating lifting the gun again. After a thought, he pulled off his fake ears and held them out to you. “Um ... here. Uh, take them. Please.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just go. Go! Go!”

The three orcs turned tail and ran. You turned back to face Sam, Dean, Boltar, and Monty. “What? What?” you said when they all stood there staring at you.

Monty pulled his fake teeth from his mouth and said, “Is the Queen really in danger?” You spread your arms and nodded in disbelief. He sighed and pointed in the direction behind him. “Okay, we got – there was something odd down by the creek. It's this weird tent. It's not one of ours. It's kind of creepy.”

“Why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?” Sam said.

“Look, I harbor an epic crush on the Queen. Maybe you could put in a good word for me when you find her.”

“I don't think you're her type,” Dean said.

“What? You mean she's not into Orcs?” 

You rolled your eyes and pushed past them all to head in the direction he’d pointed out.

After five minutes of walking, Dean turned to Boltar (the orc having been left behind when he realised you were serious about cutting out his tongue if he followed). “Why don't you take off, Bolty? We got it from here,” he said.

“A handmaiden, a time traveller, and a psycho rescue the queen? I think not, kind lady,” Boltar said.

“Look, this isn't a game, Boltar,” Sam said. “The Queen, our friend, is in real danger. You could get hurt.”

“I will not leave my Queen in peril. Look there.” He pointed to a plain white tent with two lights burning on long poles outside. 

“We haven't checked that tent,” you said. 

You barged in through the flaps of the tent. Of course, in true Charlie fashion, she was less in danger and more playing tonsil hockey with a woman dressed in white. Oh, and the tent was bigger on the inside. You were sure Moffat would have something to say about that.

You stood open-mouthed as you watched Charlie get it on with the woman, realising you had another fantasy to add to the spank bank. 

A hand landed hard on your ass. You yelped at the sting and spun to find Dean giving you a disapproving look.

“I didn’t even say anything!” you complained.

“You were thinking it,” he growled before pulling you back to his side and wrapping an arm around your waist.

You were trying to stay angry at him, but you couldn’t help letting your lips curl up at the corners when you felt his arm slide around you possessively. 

Sam stood there with his own disapproving look, though it was aimed at Dean. He’d never liked his brother treating you like that in front of people. In fact, the first time he’d ever done it, Sam had called him an animal. And Dean had bit back with a remark about not being ashamed to mark his territory. 

It was stupid, alpha bullshit. But it was the kind of bullshit you missed. 

“Dudes,” Charlie said, snapping you out of your brief ecstasy. “If the tent is rockin', don't come a-knockin'.”

Suddenly the woman leaped to her feet with fear in her eyes and pointed to Boltar who’d moved to one side and lifted his hood. 

“No, it's him! My master! Run!” the woman cried.

As the four of you looked to Boltar, he pushed back his hood with a small smile. One that you were sure he thought was evil. It really wasn’t.

You, Sam and Dean pulled your guns and pointed them at him. 

“No guns in Moondoor, gentlemen. My lady. Gilda, if you please?”

The woman – Gilda – gave the three of you a solemn look and flicked her wrist. There was the sound of a clucking chicken and you looked on in disbelief as all of your guns turned to feathers and floated to the ground. 

“Well, now what, Gerry?” Dean said.

With clenched teeth, Boltar snapped, “My name is Boltar the Furious! My plan was, after getting rid of all of my competition, to win the battle tomorrow, convincing the queen that I should be her king.” Charlie sighed and rolled her eyes. “But then you three idiots showed up, and I was forced to improvise. Rescue the damsel in distress from Orcs, become king, kill you both – that'll work, too.”

“So why did you go from hobbling to murder?” Sam said.

“Greyfox and Thargrim became part of the honour guard. They got close to the Queen, but they did it by breaking the rules – paying off other players with real money, rather than Moondoor currency. They were cheating.”

“Oh, and using magic isn't?” you said.

He shrugged. “Magic is a part of Moondoor.”

“What is your problem?” Charlie said. “Why would you hurt people? This is just a game.”

“There is no game!” Boltar shouted, causing Charlie and Gilda to flinch. “There is only Moondoor! I came here to be different, to get away from my crappy life, to be a hero, and guess what.”

“What, you were a loser in the real world, and you're a loser here? Shocker,” you said with a scowl.

Boltar scoffed. “Would a loser track down a real book of spells and compel a fairy to do his bidding?”

Charlie put a hand on Gilda’s arm in a comforting gesture.

“It depends,” Sam said. “How'd you get it?”

Boltar went silent for a moment before meekly confessing, “EBay.”

Sam nodded and cleared his throat. “Look. It doesn't have to be like this, Boltar. Just hand over the book of spells. We can work this out.”

“This will all work out,” Boltar said as he picked up a fake sword from one of the nearby chairs, “after I remove you from the playing field and wipe her memory. Gilda?”

Gilda sighed and closed her eyes. Suddenly, the non-threatening fake sword turned into a very threatening metal sword. The four of you lunged for whatever weapons you could find. Charlie got her hands on a fake sword. You did the same though you managed to grab a shield too. 

“Gilda, the men,” Boltar cried as they charged at him with their own fake swords. Gilda regretfully made a hand motion and suits of armour came forth to trap Sam and Dean.  
Charlie charged at him next and he managed to hurl her to the bed. You stepped forward and, with as much strength as you could muster, swung your own sword. Of course, you didn’t take into consideration that enough speed and strength meant Boltar’s sword would literally cut yours in half. 

In seconds you were left with only your shield. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gilda run to Charlie and say something as Boltar struck his sword down on your raised shield over and over again. You forearm began aching, and you knew you needed to come up with a plan before the shield gave out. 

When he drew his sword back for another hit, you saw your opening and lowered the shield enough to land a hard right hook on his jaw. It jarred him hard enough that he stumbled back and caused a book to fall from his belt. 

He didn’t notice it fall, but when you saw Charlie dive for it and pull out a real knife, you figured it was what Gilda had been talking about.

“Hey, Gerry,” Charlie said as she raised the dagger. “I'm the one who saves damsels in distress around here.”

Boltar looked down at his belt frantically before realising it was indeed the real one she had. He cried out as Charlie brought the dagger down into the book. A bright light shined from it, and as it died down, the suits of armour fell from Sam and Dean, and Boltar’s sword turned from metal back to foam and wood. 

You dropped your shield to the ground in a sigh of relief. 

With a shout of rage, Boltar raised his fake sword and swung it at you. Dean’s hand shot out and caught it with one hand. With a leg-trembling scowl, he yanked it from Boltar and sent his own fist across his face. 

He fell to the floor out cold and you grumbled about not having your gun. 

With a smile stretched across her face, Charlie ran to Gilda. “Are you okay?” she said.

“I'm free of the spell,” Gilda said. “You saved me. The Hollow Forest is forever in your debt. I must return to those green hills now. I will take my former master with me. He must face a fairy tribunal for his sins.”

“Wait.” Charlie lunged forward and pressed her lips to Gilda’s. 

Your jaw dropped and as you turned to watch, Dean came up behind you and put a hand over your eyes. “Dammit, Dean,” you said as you tugged uselessly at his arm. 

He didn’t pull his hand away until Gilda had disappeared with Boltar – who was now just Gerry again. 

He spun you towards him with a wide smile and pressed his lips to yours. He ran his fingers through your hair and pressed his forehead to yours when he finally pulled back. “You looked so hot fighting like that,”

You let out a shocked laugh and pulled back further to watch his face. “You have the weirdest kinks, Dean Winchester.”

He shook his head. “Nah. You’re my only kink.” He pressed his lips to yours again. The kiss was more heated that time, and you momentarily forgot the two of you weren’t alone as you felt butterflies come alive in your stomach. It had been weeks since you felt that.

Sam cleared his throat and the moment ended as the two of you pulled apart to look at the younger brother. He looked as miserable as you’d felt earlier. A part of you was glad.

****

Dean was sitting against the headboard of the bed. You were straddling his lap and laughed as his arm tightened around your waist. 

“What’s so funny?” he said. His voice was gruff and muffled against your neck. You were naked with his hand between your legs while he sat in a pair of boxer briefs. 

“I just realised I can cross ‘having sex in a medieval tent’ off my bucket list,” you said with a gasp as he slid two fingers into you. This time, you didn’t have the dread of not being able to perform hanging over your head. This time, his touch lit up your nerves like firecrackers. And heat bloomed in your centre when his tongue dragged across your skin. 

It was the little things he’d done that day. The little possessive grabs and the sidelong looks. They’d made you feel beautiful and desired, and so when Charlie offered to let the three of you stay the night, you’d been quick to ask for a separate tent where you could ravish Dean’s body. 

Of course, in true Dean fashion, the moment you’d gotten naked his face had lit up like a kid’s on Christmas and it was your body being ravished not his. You knew Sam was upset, but you didn’t allow yourself to worry about him. Dean had put in the effort that day, not him. Dean had made you feel loved when Sam had just made you feel like crap. That night Dean deserved your attention, not Sam.

Dean pulled his head back to give you a crooked smile. “You have a sexy bucket list?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said huskily. “There’s all kinds of freaky stuff on there.”

“God, I’m so in love with you,” he groaned as he pressed his lips to yours. “And I’m the luckiest man alive.” Another kiss. “And I’m idiot for not showing you that.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” you said softly as you nipped at his bottom lip.

“No? What then? You want to finish what we started?” You gasped as he curled his fingers inside of you and pressed his palm to your clit. “You want to cum all over my hand?”  
You groaned and gave him a searing kiss. “Yes,” you breathed when you pulled back.

His mouth fell open on a silent moan as he watched you grind yourself down onto his hand. His pace was slow but effective. He much preferred a slow build up to Sam’s keeping-you-on-the-edge-like-a-maniac technique. Not that you complained about either (though lately, Sam hadn’t been too keen on the method). 

You kissed Dean again to clear your mind of Sam and his refusal to fuck you the way you wanted him to. 

“Dean,” you groaned as you rocked your hips faster against him, trying to coax his own hand to speed up. 

“Jesus … fuck,” Dean growled through clenched teeth. “How do you even get this wet?” 

You whined when he pulled his hand from your body and looked down at his glistening palm and fingers. 

“No, don’t stop,” you whined, your hips stick rocking as if his hand were there. You nipped at his neck in retaliation. 

“Shit,” he whispered as he ran his hands over the inside of your thighs. “It’s everywhere. Is this even possible? My freakin’ pants are soaked. What the hell, baby?”

You suddenly felt your ego start to deflate and you sank back against his thighs, stopping the movement of your hips. “Sorry. I can’t control it.”

Dean frowned at the sudden change in tone and body language. Then he growled, realising what you’d thought. He gripped your ass in both hands and hurled you against his body. His teeth latched onto your neck and he left a dark hickey behind. 

“Don’t apologise,” he growled in your ear as he slid his hand down your ass to delve into the wet heat of your core again. “It’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.” He pulled his hand back to suck the juices from his fingers with a moan. 

You gave him another searing kiss. “Then don’t stop.” You backed up your plea by pressing your core against his erection and rocking your hips against him.

He groaned and let his head fall back against the headboard. “Fuck, baby. You get me so damn riled up.”

You smiled. “I can fix that.” 

You reached for the waistband of his boxer briefs but he grabbed your wrists before you could tug at them. “No, not yet. You know I like watching you cum at least once before I’m inside you.”

You pouted and ground down against his erection again. “You don’t even want me to do that?”

He clenched his teeth and dug his fingers into your hips as you rocked against him once more. “Fuck. Okay. Yeah, keep doing that. But when I tell you to stop, you stop, okay? I want to be inside you when I cum.”

You grinned and set a steady pace. Moaning as your wetness made it easier to slide against his covered cock. The fabric was the perfect friction for your clit. 

“Oh, fuck,” Dean breathed as he felt your juices start to soak through the material of his pants. He felt like a teenager again as he tried to stop himself from cumming in his pants too soon. It was no over exaggeration when he said you got him all riled up. 

He watched your face as your brows furrowed and your mouth dropped open. The filthiest moans fell from your lips and he knew that everyone walking past would hear you. He wanted you to scream louder. 

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you against him and drew a nipple into his mouth. He sucked and bit and licked until it was oversensitive and covered in red marks, then he moved to the next one. He could feel your legs shake around his hips by the time he was done, and he knew you were close. The problem was he was too. He knew he wouldn’t last until you did, or at the very least he’d go when you did. 

He pushed you off him and threw you to your back on the bed. You began protesting but fell quite when he pushed your thighs open and laid between them so his face was level with your core.

“Change of plan,” he growled. “I want you to cum in my mouth.”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer before his tongue was sliding through your folds, lapping up everything he possibly could. No matter how much he tried, though, he could never get all of it. Eventually, he gave up and just sucked your clit into his mouth, swiping his tongue lazily across it. Every now and then, when your juices started dripping from his chin, he’d slide his tongue down between your folds and lap up as much as he could before going back to your clit. 

You were close before, so it took you all of 20 seconds to cum, but he wasn’t done with you yet. He felt greedy. He hadn’t had enough time to eat his fill so he didn’t stop. Even when your fingers pull at his hair, and your thighs closed around his head. Even when your body convulsed from over stimulation and your cries echoed through the tent – loud enough for at least half the camp to hear – he didn’t stop. 

When he thought it might be too much for you, he pushed two fingers into your convulsing core, curled them and rapidly moved them up and down into your g-spot.  
You cried out again, but whatever he was making you feel had your legs falling open and your hips bucking up into his face. 

Your fingers clenched tighter in his hair as you tried to pull him closer, then suddenly they were trying to push him away. Dean growled around your clit and pulled your hands away from him. He wasn’t done yet, and he sure as hell knew you were close to cumming again. He didn’t understand why you were trying to push him away. 

You tried again and he growled again, moving his fingers faster and pressing his tongue harder against your clit. 

“Oh, no, Dean,” you cried, giving up on pushing him away, instead opting for clenching the sheets above your head. “You have to top, I think I’m gonna –”

Suddenly, your back arched and your thighs tightened around his head again. Even if he’d wanted to pull away he couldn’t. It was lucky that he didn’t want to pull away. 

He hadn’t known why you’d wanted him to stop before, but the moment you came he figured it out. For the first time in your life, you squirted. And, of course, the first time had to be all over Dean’s face.

You were too blissed out to be mortified. Dean lazily lapped up what he could before you were weakly pushing his head away and rolling to your side. 

Your body shook with the aftershocks and you brought a knee to your chest so you could rub a hand over your overstimulated core. A mixture of laughs and whimpers fell from your mouth as you sank your teeth into your own arm and shook from the pleasure. 

Dean knelt on the bed, covered in your cum, looking dumbfounded by your reaction. He’d seen this happen in pornos. But he didn’t think it could actually happen. Sam had let slip once that you sometimes shook and ended up laughing from endorphins by the time he was done with you, but Dean didn’t think you’d ever ended up like this with Sam. 

Dean had the sudden urge to be inside of you while you shook and jerked from the aftershock. He settled in behind you, lightly gripping the leg you’d pulled up to your chest and bringing it up and back so it was slung over his hips. He bent his own knee to stop yours from sliding down and lined himself up with your entrance. 

Before he pushed inside of you, he rolled your upper body back so it was lying flat against the bed beside him, and leaned over you. He didn’t think you’d say no to him, but he wanted to make sure you were all there before he made love to you. He wanted to watch your face as well. That night in the motel before you saw the psychologist still haunted him to this day.

“Baby? You okay?” he said softly.

You giggled and reached down to grip him between your legs and run the head of his cock up and down your slit. He drew in a sharp breath between his teeth.

“Please,” you begged. 

That was all the consent he needed. On your down stroke, he pushed into you. Your mouth fell open and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as they closed. 

Dean’s moan rivalled your earlier ones as he finally got to feel you hot and wet around him for the first time in weeks. 

He slid his forearm under your head as he looked down at your face. “Come on, baby. I want you to look at me.”

He didn’t start thrusting until you opened your eyes. Your moans mixed until he couldn’t tell which moan belonged to who. He was stuck on whether to kiss you, bite and suck at your bouncing breasts, or watch your face as he fucked you the way he loved you. Hard and fast with a hell of a lot of dirty talk. 

So he took turns doing all three. 

First, he’d lean down and press his open mouth to yours, his tongue exploring yours as you moaned into the kiss. Then he’d leave a hot trail of kisses down to your breasts and lavish each one of them until they were oversensitive again. Then he’d pull back and watch your bliss filled eyes as you came undone beneath him. His thrusts always became uneven when he saw your face, and he knew that just watching your face twist in pleasure was enough to make him cum.

“That’s it, baby,” he panted, fighting back a groan so he could tell you how good you were. “You’re such a good girl. You feel so good wrapped around me right now. You’re so fucking beautiful. You know that, baby? Huh? You know you’re my good little girl? I can’t believe you fucking squirted all over me, baby girl. That was so damn sexy. I wanna make you do it again. But not right now. Right now, I want to feel you cum around my cock. Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you give me one more?”

You let out a low whine but managed to nod your head for him. 

“Good girl,” Dean groaned as he pushed a hand down between your legs and started toying with your clit. He could feel himself coming undone under your stare, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to make it until you came again but he was sure as hell gonna try.

He grinned as he felt your hips rock against his urgently. “Dean,” you moaned as you dug your fingernails into his forearm. “I’m gonna cum again. I wanna cum for you.”

Dean moaned and tried to keep his thrusts steady as he looked down at you. “Good girl, Y/N. You’re such a good girl. Come on, baby.” Your brows furrowed and your mouth dropped open on a silent moan as you back arched from the bed. “There you go, baby,” Dean growled through his teeth as he felt you tighten around him. “Oh, God. You feel so good.”

You managed to pull your leg down from his hip and squeeze your thighs together as your body shook again. It wasn’t as crazy as the last one, but it was still pretty intense.   
Dean spooned himself around your body as you rolled to your side. He didn’t want to accidently pull out when he was already so close. With your body convulsing around him, it only took a few hard thrusts before his was emptying himself inside of you with a shout.

He pressed kisses to your shoulder blades and let you roll to your stomach when he had his breathing under control. You were asleep the moment you did. He knew he should have gotten up and grabbed a cloth to clean you up, but when he rested his eyes for a few minutes to recuperate, those minutes turned into hours. Suddenly he was waking up in the morning to a sticky mess and a long shower (he thanked God Charlie chose to set up camp near a communal bathroom with built in showers).

****

“So what's next for you, Charlie? New town? New identity?” Sam said as the three of you walked through her camp dressed in your casual clothes once again. 

Dean’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, every now and then he rubbed his hand down along your ass, squeezing it if he thought someone’s eyes were lingering on you a little too long. You had to stifle your smile, but Dean was all but glowing in his newfound content. 

Sam looked pissy as all hell, but you tried not to let him ruin your mood. It had been a while since you’d been this blissfully happy. 

“If the last 24 hours have taught me anything,” Charlie said, “it's that escaping isn't what it used to be. No more replacement characters for me. I got to face reality from now on. Sadly, reality actually includes monsters, but what are you gonna do? If I can ever be of help to you guys, let me know.”

“Will do,” Dean said with a grin. “And you, uh... you're good?”

Charlie stopped in her tracks and turned to the three of you with a smile. “Apart from the fact that you blocked me from banging a fairy, and I'm about to go lose my crown in battle, thanks to my army being decimated? Yeah. Totally good.” Just as she started to leave, she turned back to three of you and held up a Vulcan salute. “Smell you later, bitches.”

Dean cleared his throat once she was gone and looked at his brother. “So, what's, uh... what's next? 'Cause no fun, right?” Sam sighed. “Look, before you say anything, I – I – I get it. No amount of fun is gonna help you get over what you gave up. You just, uh... you need time, right? And – and you and this little minx,” he squeezed you tight and you let out a short laugh as he buried his face in your neck and nipped at your skin briefly, “still need time. I know you guys aren’t on the best of terms right now. But you’ll get there, right?”  
Sam scoffed. “I wonder what’s got you all cheery.”

Dean grinned. “You can’t ruin my buzz man. I just had the best sex of my life last night.” You elbowed him in the ribs and glared, but not even that wiped the smile from his face.

You could tell Sam wanted to be angry at his brother, but he couldn’t hide the small smile that curled his lips. “Yeah. Thanks. And you're right. Having fun won't help me. It'll help all of us.” Dean gave him a look of shock and Sam nodded towards Charlie’s tent. “Shall we?”

And that small gesture was how you ended up in a suit of armour with face paint, shouting the speech from Braveheart at a group of lovable dorks while Sam laughed and Dean stood by your side proudly. And what began the victory of the Queen of Moons in the Battle of Kingdoms.


	22. Nightmares and Casablanca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Winchester's long lost grandfather literally blasts in from the past, he brings along a Knight of Hell for the ride. Kidnapping ensues (from both sides) and you're forced to put aside your problems with Sam in order to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I didn't get enough time to edit this properly. So if there are heaps of mistakes, my bad!

It was 3am and you stood in front of the mirror of the latest motel bathroom, cursing your incredible mind for being so restless. You heaved out a sigh and bent over the sink to splash water on your face. As cold droplets of water slid down your neck, you straightened and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Sam’s reflection directly behind you. 

“Sorry,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Probably shouldn’t be standing behind me all silent and creepy-like then.” You used the bottom of the flannel you were wearing to wipe your face as you turned to look up at him. 

He nodded. “You’re right.”

You nodded back and wondered why it was so awkward all of a sudden. Clearing your throat, you hoisted yourself up onto the sink. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

He shook his head and scratched at the back of his neck. You silently cursed yourself for instantly drooling over the bulge of his bicep as he did it. You scrubbed a hand over your eyes and sighed. 

You opened your mouth to speak … or – just anything to break the awkwardness. “Look, I –”

“Sorry, it’s just –” he said at the same time.

You both chuckled and he took a couple steps towards you. You spread your thighs automatically so he could step between them but he stopped before he made it that far. It made your heart sink and the stupid insecurities came floating back to the surface. 

It was stupid. You’d never been that insecure before. But ever since he ran off to Amelia … and you knew it was time to let it go but you just – you couldn’t. It was so hard to feel secure with Sam when half the time you weren’t even sure what he was thinking or feeling when it came to you. 

Sometimes you thought it would be easier if he would just act the way he used to. If he just acted as crazy about you as Dean did. But he didn’t. And you knew that wishing for that was selfish and unfair. 

“I miss you,” Sam said suddenly. 

You dragged your bottom lip through your teeth. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m right here.”

“You do know what I mean. I miss us. The way we were. I miss you. And – and how you used to look at me. And … I know I screwed up. I know that I kept screwing up even after I  
said I wouldn’t. And I’m trying. I really am. I –”

“God, Sam, just stop already,” you snapped. You paused and Sam turned slightly when you heard Dean shift in his bed. Sam turned back to you a moment later and you sighed.  
“Stop blaming yourself. Stop making me feel guilty for being angry at you. I had every right to be angry.”

“I know you did.” He closed the gap between you and you couldn’t help but press your thighs against his hip as he cupped your face. “I promise I am not trying to make you feel guilty. It’s not what I want. I’m just … trying to make things right, again.”

You shook your head slightly and pulled his hands away from your face. They dropped to the counter on either side of you and you felt caged in by his body. You had to drop your gaze to his chest just so your neck would stop hurting from looking up at him. 

“You’re not getting it,” you said. “I feel guilty because I shouldn’t still be punishing you. And every time you apologise for screwing up … I just keep thinking that you shouldn’t have to keep saying that. I mean, I know you’re trying, and it’s my own insecurities that're stopping us from moving past this. It’s my fault that we can’t go back to what we were.”

“No. No, hey,” Sam said as he cupped your face again and forced you to look up at him, although that time he bent a little so you didn’t have to look up so high. “It’s not your fault, okay? If you’re feeling insecure in our relationship then that’s on me. I can see that you’re trying too. I really do. You touch me like you used too, even though sometimes I can tell you don’t want to. And whenever you feel insecure I can see you trying to push past it.”

“But that’s just it, Sam. I shouldn’t have to push past it. It just shouldn’t be there in the first place.” You had to stop yourself from growling in frustration as you felt tears begin to well up. 

“I know – I know. I know that, Y/N. I do.”

His hands slipped from your face again as you looked down at your lap. “You got a house with her.”

He stepped back from you when he realised you were about to revisit an old fight. You didn’t want to. What you wanted was to forget about the year the two of you had been apart but it kept nagging at you. 

It hadn’t worried you the first time you’d forgiven him. But the second time … you started overthinking the little things.

“We were just renting,” Sam said.

You scoffed because you couldn’t believe he thought that made it any better. “Right. Sure. The problem is I thought I was the one you wanted to get a house with.”

“You were,” he said. “You are.”

“Then why did you get a house with her? And why did you do it so quickly? Why couldn’t you wait a year before moving on like any other sane person? Why did you go to Texas without telling me and then stay there for a week? What did you do while you were there? Did you see her? Ugh, you see?!” You jumped off the counter and ran a hand through your hair as tears fell down your cheeks. “I sound like some psycho bitch. Like that jealous girlfriend that men tell horror stories about to their friends. I don’t want to be that person, Sam.”

“You’re not that person,” he said softly.

“Then why do I feel like I am?! You know one second I feel justified in being insecure and jealous. And then the next … you do something and I just feel stupid and guilty. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel and I just –” Your words choked off as a sob forced its way up your throat. 

You let Sam wrap his arms around you and tuck your head against his chest as you cried. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/N. I promise. We can get past this. Right now, all your feelings are justified. It’s okay to be confused.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” you sobbed.

He squeezed you tighter and buried his face in your hair. “God, I know. I’m so sorry. I just … you shouldn’t have to cry over this anymore.”

You sniffed and pulled back so you could look up at him. “What if I never stop feeling like this? What if I can never feel secure in our relationship, and I’m just constantly worrying about it?”

You could practically see the heartbreak in his eyes as he opened his mouth and nothing came out. 

“What’s going on?” Dean said in a groggy voice as he stepped into the bathroom rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

The moment he saw your face he was wide-awake. He rushed forward and wiped your tears from your face before cupping it in his hands. “Jesus, Sam, what did you do?”

“I –”

“It’s okay, Dean,” you said, cutting Sam off. “He didn’t do anything.”

“The hell he didn’t,” Dean growled with an angry glance at his brother. 

You sniffed again. “I’m just really tired, okay?”

He nodded and steered you out of the bathroom towards his bed. Once you curled up in it, he tucked the covers in around you and you gave him a small smile.

“You don’t need to baby me, Dean.”

“Shut up,” he growled. “I can baby you whenever the hell I damn well please.” You gave him another watery smile as he brushed your hair back and planted a kiss on your temple, cheek and lips. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Dean found Sam leaning over the sink when he went back into the bathroom. He shut the door before rounding on his brother with an angry look. “What the hell is your problem?” he whispered. “What? You think it's fun to keep torturing her like this?”

Sam turned to him with a frown. “No, of course not, Dean. I don’t like upsetting her any more than you do. But that happens in a relationship. People fight and they get upset.”  
“Well stop it. She doesn’t need this right now. She doesn’t need it ever. So just stop bringing shit up. Stop making her feel like crap.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue, prepared to defend himself. The fights were never one-sided after all. But then he looked at his brother. Really looked at him. He realised then how terrified Dean really was.

“You’re scared she’ll do it again,” Sam said softly. “You think she’ll try and –”

“Don’t say it,” Dean snapped. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and looked away from Sam’s knowing gaze.

“She’s going to be okay, Dean.”

“You don’t know that. She was supposed to be fine before. She was supposed to be getting better and then … you weren’t there, Sam. You didn’t see it. You – you didn’t hold her in your arms while she … yeah, you’re damn right I’m scared of that happening again.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, so what? I’m just supposed to ignore the fact she can’t get past what I did? I’m supposed to just let our relationship die? I’m supposed to let her resent me?”

“No.” 

“Then what am I supposed to do, Dean? Please, I’m really asking here because I’m out of ideas. I try and go back to what we were and it doesn’t work. And then I get frustrated at her for not just forgiving me and it makes me feel like an asshole.”

“Because you’re being an asshole!” Dean said. He flinched when his voice echoed in the bathroom and he looked towards the door, listening for any indication that you might have heard. He turned back to his brother when he heard nothing. “Look, she’s trying to make it work, too. And she still trusts you despite everything. And that’s all she needs to do. She just has to love and trust us every single day and in return, we give her everything. And I’m talking us. Now, I realised I hadn’t been holding up my end of the bargain so I fixed it and so far it’s working out for me.”

“So that’s it then?” Sam said. “I just hold up my end of the bargain?”

Dean shrugged. “Pretty much. You treat that woman like the damn queen she is and you’ll have the relationship of your dreams.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head as he leaned back against the sink. “And if it’s not that simple?”

“Trust me, it is. If I’ve learnt one thing in my life. Just one. It’s that women aren’t as complicated as everyone makes them out to be. They want what they want and that’s it. Sure, sometimes they don’t tell you what they want and you have to go on a damn treasure hunt to figure it out, but for the most part, it’s pretty damn simple. And loving Y/N is as easy as it comes. She just wants you to love her and respect her. She wants to know that you’re not gonna go running off to some other woman the moment they call or things get hard.”

Sam glowered at him. “You know it wasn’t like that.”

“But she doesn’t. And no matter how hard you try, you’re not gonna make her understand that. So stop trying to tell her why you did it, and start showing her that you won’t do it again.” Sam nodded. “You get me?”

“Yeah. I get you, Dean.”

“Good.” With a final nod, Dean left the bathroom and went straight to his bed to curl his body around you and reassure himself that you were still there. Safe and sound.

****

Dean sat on the edge of his bed later that morning as he pulled his boots on. As the bed shifted, he looked over his shoulder and felt himself smile at the sight of you. You’d kicked the sheet off of yourself when you’d moved, and your flannel was only done up with one button over your breasts. Your entire body was on display for him and he didn’t think he’d seen – or could see in the future – anything more beautiful. 

His eyes lingered on the way your panties stretched across your flesh. They were nowhere near enough to cover your ass. Not the Dean minded in the least. 

Not for the first time, he wondered how he’d been so lucky to find an incredibly beautiful, smart and strong woman screwed up enough to fall in love with him. Skeletons and all. 

“You’re staring,” you mumbled. 

Dean’s eyes shot to your face and the smile that was there. Your eyes were still closed. He chuckled. “Just thinking how lucky I am to wake up next to you every morning.”

You hummed in content. “Well, every other morning.”

He gave her a mock growl and she yelped and opened her eyes when he slapped her ass. “I was trying to have a moment,” he said as he ran a soothing hand over the red handprint on her ass. 

With a deep breath, she shifted to her back and rubbed a hand over her face. “Well, are you done? ‘Cause I kinda want you to kiss me now.”

He grinned and leaned down to do exactly that. But of course, his fairy-tale moment with his dream girl lasted all of a second before he heard Sam clear his throat. 

“You know, even though I’m dating you, Y/N. It’s still kinda gross to hear you guys be mushy together,” Sam said. He was leaning against the doorframe with his eyebrow cocked and a smirk. 

Dean returned his smirk with a devious one of his own. “You’re just jealous you don’t get to be mushy with her right now. Also, don’t call it mushy. Mushy is weird.”

Sam scoffed and turned to head back into the bathroom. That was the moment a man who was the walking definition of ‘dapper’ rolled out of the closet. 

The three of you looked on dumbfounded (later you’d be embarrassed about your awful reaction time) as the man crouched there looking at the three of you. 

He gave you a dismissive glance (which didn’t bode well for your short temper) and focused on Sam and Dean. 

“Which of you is John Winchester?” he said. When none of you said anything he rose to his feet and took a step forward. Sam stepped forward as well as you and Dean climbed to your feet. “Please, time is of the essence! Which of you is John Winchester?”

“Uh, neither,” Sam said.

He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his mouth as his gaze dropped to the floor. He looked so devastated by the news that you felt yourself begin to feel sorry or him.

“That's impossible,” he said to himself. “That's absolutely... what did I do wrong?”

“Who the hell are you, mister?” Dean growled. 

“Not now. I'm thinking.”

Dean storm forward and you protested as he grabbed the man by the front of his coat and slammed him against the wall before pressing a forearm across his chest. 

“Please,” the man said as he lifted his hands in surrender. “I can assure you there's no need for violence. One of you must know John Winchester.”

“I'll tell you what,” Sam said as he came up beside Dean (you rolled your eyes and threw your hands up at their macho act), “when one of us falls out of your closet, then you can ask the questions.”

“Yes, my apologies.” The man’s eyes shifted back to Dean. “Is it absolutely essential, sir, that you keep your hands on me?”

“No,” you snapped as you finally stepped forward and pulled at Dean’s shoulder. “It’s not.”

Dean let the man go and gave you a hard look as he stepped back. He didn’t like you taking anyone’s side but his. Despite this, he let his hand brush against your hip as he positioned himself so he could block you from an attack if he needed to. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” the man said as he glanced at you. He looked away quickly as a blush spread across his cheeks. You realised you were still only wearing Dean’s flannel with  
the one button done up across your breasts. 

You thought it was odd that he seemed so flustered by it, it was the 21st century after all – there were women on billboards all over the country wearing less clothing than you (which was a problem in and of itself). Either way, you weren’t putting pants on until he gave the three of you answers.

The man cleared his throat and began buttoning up his suit jacket. “Gentlemen, in the absence of any and all other explanations, I'm afraid this has been a marvellous, tragic misunderstanding,” he said. “I'll be on my way.”

He pushed past Dean and Sam and headed for the door. You stepped in front of him, blocking his way as Dean and Sam came up on either side of him. 

“That's not happening,” Sam said.

The man rolled his eyes and snapped, “There are things of grave importance. I do not have time to deal with the likes of you.”

Without warning, Sam takes a hold of the man’s arm and lifts it so Dean can slam on the handcuffs he swiped from the table. 

“You're not going anywhere, 007, till we get some answers,” Dean said. 

The brothers moved to cuff the man to the chair, but in one swift move (a move that you never let either of them forget) the man had the both of them handcuffed together to the chair. 

With a shocked look and a choked out laugh you stepped aside and let the man rush out of the motel room.

“How did he do that?” Dean said. “You got to be kidding me! Y/N, what the hell are you doing? Go after him!”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, Dean. After a move like that, I think he deserves to go free.”

“Y/N,” Sam growled.

“I’m not even wearing pants!” The both of them yelled your name once more and you rolled your eyes. “Fine. But I’m taking your gun.” With that, you swiped Dean’s gun from the table and left the motel room. 

You didn’t have to look very far to find him. At the sound of a crash, you turned and chuckled as you watched the man reach through the now broken window of the Impala and unlock it. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered as you headed towards the car. 

You racked the gun and pointed it straight through the driver’s side window at him. He froze with his hands at the glovebox. 

“Nice taste in wheels,” you said with a crooked smile.

He sighed and rolled his eyes towards you. “Yours, I presume?”

You lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “My boyfriend’s, actually. And he is not gonna be happy that you broke his window.”

****

The man sat in a chair back in the motel room as the three of you stood around him. 

He laughed as you splashed him with the liquid from a flask. “And there with the holy water.”

You pressed your lips together as you screwed the lid back onto the flask. “He's clean.”

He tugged down the sleeve of his suit jacket, covering a nasty cut and said, “I could have told you that.”

Dean pushed off the table he was leaning against, his gun in hand. “Yeah, well, you can start by telling us everything before I beat it out of you.”

The man gave him a wry smile. “I'm quite certain this is all beyond your understanding, my alpha-male-monkey friend.” You laughed and Dean shot you a look. “And violence will not help you comprehend this any easier.”

With a scowl that could shake a drill sergeant's knees, Dean grabbed the front of the man’s jacket again and aimed his gun at him. “Let me tell you what I understand!” he said. 

“Some asshat pops out of my closet asking about my dad – smashes up my ride. So why am I not getting violent, again?”

The man gave him a look of awe. “John Winchester is your father?”

Sam and Dean shared a look before, suddenly, the room shook and the closet door rattled. 

“What is that?” the man said as he got to his feet. When the three of you gave him blank looks his face paled. “Oh, my God. Run!”

Before any of you had a chance to process what he’d said, the closet door burst open with a flash of bright light and a red-haired woman stepped out. 

“Henry,” she said with a laugh as she looked at the man. “Silly man, you forgot to lock the door. But then spells never were your best subject, were they?” She glanced towards you, Sam and Dean before turning her attention back to Henry. “Why don't you be a doll and give me what I want? And I promise to kill you and your friends here quickly.”

Henry shook his head and swallowed with wide eyes. “You know I can't do that.”

“You're not a fighter, Henry,” she said with a smile. 

Sam and Dean raised their guns at that statement, but the woman flicked her wrists and had them flying to opposite ends of the room in no time. Henry shifted to run to the door  
– he froze in place a moment later when the woman held her hand up.

She looked at you then, lifting her hand to flick you against the wall, but she hesitated when her eyes met yours. You swallowed, knowing there was no way you could make it to  
your gun in time. You suddenly had a silly wish that you’d put pants on earlier. 

She tilted her head and frowned as she watched you. “How curious,” she said. 

Sam shifted in the corner and suddenly you were flying towards him. 

He grunted as you landed on him and sent him back to the ground. “Why do they always throw you at me?” Sam grumbled as he helped you roll off of him.

“Josie. I know you're still in there. You must fight this,” Henry said as he stared at the woman’s face intently.

“I'm afraid Josie's indisposed, pet,” she said. “It looks like it's just you and me.”

You and Sam watched as Dean launched towards her with his demon knife. She screamed and fell to her knees as a gold light flashed inside of her. She lets out a pant and a  
pained groan before the gold light ceased flashing. 

“Well, that is no way to treat a lady,” she said. 

No words needed to be said for the four of you to dart out of the motel room and jump into the Impala. The tires screeched on your way out of the parking lot, and you watched as the motel owner ran from his office and screamed at you as you passed. 

****

Dean sped down a narrow road, passing under a large bridge before he finally skidded to a stop on the side of the road. Henry was out of the car before the smell of burnt rubber began wafting up. He fell to his knees in the grass and vomited. 

You, Sam and Dean, crawled out of the car next. 

“Are you okay?” Sam said. 

“Yes, I will be,” Henry said before vomiting again and wiping off his mouth with a handkerchief. “It's just all the adventures I enjoy are usually of the literary nature.”

“Yeah, well, now that you're done blowing chunks, you want to tell us who Betty Crocker was?” you said. 

Henry climbed to his feet with a pant. “Abaddon. She's a demon.”

“No kidding,” Sam said. “Where'd she come from?”

“Where'd you come from?” Dean snapped.

Henry sniffed and brushed off the sleeves of his jacket. “She's from Hell. I'm from Normal, Illinois – 1958.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed. “Seriously? Dudes time-travelling through motel room closets? That's what we've come to?”

Henry sighed. “If you could just take me to John, we could clear all this up, I'm sure.”

“I've told you that's not gonna happen,” Dean said.

“Why not?”

“Because he's dead!”

Henry’s face paled and he turned away from the three of you. “No,” he whispered.

“What's it to you?” Sam said.

“Everything,” Henry said as he turned back. “I'm his father.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, and you were suddenly torn about which one of them needed you the most. You never got to make the decision. A cold wind hit your legs and you shivered.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else to talk about this,” you said. “Also, I really need pants.”

“Oh, right, uh …” Sam said as he ran a hand over his mouth and looked down at your bare legs.

Dean pressed his lips together and tossed his car keys to you. He and Sam watched as you headed to the boot, Dean’s flannel flapping around your legs in the wind. 

The idea of Dean and Sam’s grandfather standing right in front of him sent Dean into a spiral. It was too much for him to process all at much. He needed something to ground him. Normally he would go straight to you, but he knew that Sam would need you to ground him as well – and having both brother’s go to you for that wasn’t something he wanted his grandfather to see. Especially if he was straight out of the 50s. 

So he just watched you. He watched you pull a spare pair of shorts from the duffel bag in the boot. He watched you drag them up your smooth legs. He imagined what it felt like to have those thighs press against his hips. Or draped across his legs as you laid back on the couch and read. 

When you pulled the shorts up higher and he got an eyeful of your plump ass as you tried to squeeze them into the shorts, Dean suddenly remembered that he and Sam weren’t the only ones there.

He looked at Henry and, sure enough, found him staring at you as though you’d just stripped naked.

“Hey,” Dean growled. “That’s my girl you’re looking at.”

A blush spread across Henry’s face as he tore his eyes away from you. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Dean threw his hands up in the air and looked at Sam. “Great. All Winchesters are attracted to her. Sure as hell happy Dad will never meet her,” he grumbled before stalking  
towards you and shuffling you further behind the car away from Henry’s view.

****

Henry sat at a tall table in the local diner looking down at an old photograph in his hands. Well, it was old to you. To him … he’d probably only taken it a few years ago. It was of him and a little brown haired boy – John, you were guessing.

You leaned against the counter, waiting for your food to arrive, with Sam and Dean on either side of you. Their food had already arrived, but they committed a small act of chivalry and waited until your food arrived before going back to the table.

“Driver's license says he's Henry Winchester from Normal, Illinois. He knows Dad's birthday, the exact place where he was born. Dude, that's our grandfather,” Sam said to Dean over your head. 

“I'm just saying before we break out the warm and toasties, let's not forget that, uh, H.G. Wells over there left Dad high and dry when he was a kid,” Dean said.

“Maybe he didn’t run out on your dad,” you said. They both looked down at you. “I mean, not on purpose. Maybe he time-travelled here and, I don't know, got stuck.”

“Yeah, well, either way, Dad hated the son of a bitch.”

“And Dad made up for that how?” Sam said. “By being father of the year?”

They fell quiet when a waitress came over to you and set down your tray of food. You smiled your thanks and lifted it in your hands. 

“Look,” Dean said, “Dad had his issues, okay, but he was always there for us. I freaking hate time-travel, man.”

He lifted his own tray from the counter and turned towards the table.

“Here. I got that,” Sam said as he took your tray from your hands and lifted your own.

You gave him a confused look. “Sam, I think I can carry my tray three feet.”

“I know,” he said. “I just want to help.”

“Really? And this has nothing to do with the fight we had this morning?”

He sighed and pressed his lips together. “Of course it does. I’m trying to make things right. Hold up my end of the bargain.”

“What bargain?”

Sam shook his head and gave you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. Just some advice I got from Dean. Everything’s gonna be okay with us, Y/N. I promise.”

He walked towards the table before you got to consider a response. Sam sat his tray down and put yours between it and Dean’s. He even pulled up a chair for you.

You smiled at him in thanks and placed a hand on his shoulder to climb up onto your stool. You didn’t need to, but Sam liked to feel needed. 

“Shouldn’t Dean be doing all that?” Henry said suddenly as he watched you and Sam.

“Doing what?” Dean said.

“What Sam just did for Y/N. Pull out her chair, carry her food. I thought you said she was your girl.”

You rolled your eyes. “She is sitting right here,” you said. “And she will knock out your teeth if you talk about her like she isn’t here. It’s the 21st century. Lots changed.”

Sam cleared his throat when an awkward silence settled. “How you doing?” he finally asked Henry.

Henry sighed. “I'll be fine. After all, despite everything, I've just met my grandsons, haven't I?” He held his hand out to Sam. “Henry Winchester. It's a pleasure.” Sam shook his hand  
and introduced himself in return. “Hello, Sam.” 

When Henry moved his hand over to Dean, the older Winchester looked at it as his jaw ticked. Suddenly he picked up a basket of food from his tray nd all but threw it to Henry’s side of the table. “Dinner,” he said. 

You pressed your lips together and gave Dean a sympathetic look that he didn’t see. He looked angry, and like he might not want you to touch him. But you did it anyway because he needed you. Whether he admitted it or not. 

You slid your hand under his shirt and onto the skin of his back. When he gave you an angry look you gave him a sad smile back and his heart swelled. 

He didn’t deserve you, he realised. He told himself that all the time, but it only just hit home how true it was. He’d been ready to take his irritation out on you when you touched him, and he could see in your eyes that you’d been expecting it. But you tried to comfort him anyway. 

Without letting himself overthink it, Dean acted on his urges and buried his hand in your hair, using the hold to bring your face towards his so he could kiss you. It was chaste and quick, but the fact he’d done it despite the situation he was in, despite the fact that his grandfather (who he was royally pissed off at) sat right across from him. That in itself made it one of the most meaningful kisses he’d ever given you. 

Instead of pulling back straight away, he leant forward even more and whispered in your ear, “I love you.”

Your chest was too filled with emotions to say anything back when he pulled away. He acted as though nothing had just happened as you, Henry and Sam stared at him, though he did rest his hand on your thigh as he began eating. 

“This is Dean,” Sam said as nonchalantly as he could. 

“Right,” Henry said.

“Well, this has been touching,” Dean said. “How about we figure out how to clean up your mess, huh?”

Dean frowned. “Abaddon. Yes. She must be stopped.”

“How come she didn't die when I stabbed her?”

“Because demons can't be killed by run-of-the-mill cutlery. At the very least, you'd need an ancient demon-killing knife of the Kurds.”

Dean rolled his eyes and opened his jacket to reveal the demon knife he’d used on Abaddon. “That's what this is.”

Henry’s eyes widened and you realised that he seemed easily shocked. “Where'd you get that?”

Dean let his jacket fall shut. “Demon gave it to me. We've been around this block so many times.”

“Now, that portal or whatever it was you came through,” Sam said, “is it still open?”

“I highly doubt it,” Henry said. “Why?”

“I'm just thinking if we can't kill this Abaddon –“

“– maybe we can shove her back where she came from,” you finished. You looked at Henry. “How did you do it?”

“It's a blood sigil,” he said. “Blood leads to blood. Or their next of kin.”

“But Abaddon came through it, also, right?” Sam said. “So can you create this blood sigil again?”

“My blood, an angel feather, tears of a dragon, a pinch of the sands of time – I – I would need those and... at least a week for my soul to recharge, but, yes, it's possible.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot to his hairline and he leaned forward. “You tapped the power of your soul to get here? I thought only angels could do that.”

Henry gave him a confused smile and hesitated before saying, “You should know this. What level are you two?”

“What level?” Dean said. 

“Level of knowledge. You're Men of Letters, correct?”

Sam and Dean shared a look and you let out a nervous chuckle as you leaned forward and said, “I'm a little rusty on my boy bands. Men of what?”

Henry gave the three of you incredulous looks. “Men of Letters, like their father, who taught them our ways.”

Sam shook his head and frowned. “Our father taught us how to be hunters.”

Henry laughed, though you didn’t think it was because he thought Sam was funny. “You're not. Are you? Hunters? Well, hunters are... Hunters are apes. You're supposed to – you're legacies.”

Dean’s jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth. “Legacies of what?”

****

A comic book store, apparently. Keeping up to Wolverine’s whereabouts and who would win in a fight between Superman and Batman was apparently the new destiny awaiting the Winchester’s. 

“What's going on here?” Henry said as he stopped outside door 242 in the alley Dean had pulled into. Your laughter still echoed against the walls as you tried to reel it in.

Henry lifted his hand and rubbed his fingers against the bad paint job that partially concealed a symbol on the door. A look of devastation marred his features. He looked up at the comic book sign that sat above the door. 

Dean clapped his hands once. “All right, well, this was enlightening. Let's hit the road, huh?”

“Give him a minute, Dean,” you said softly as you watched him. 

“Since when were you on his bandwagon?”

You gave him a small smile. “Since I found out he was your grandfather.”

“Y/N’s right, Dean,” Sam said. “Just give him some time.”

Dean threw his hands up. “We just spent four hours driving, okay? All he did was stare out the window and request Pat Boone on the radio. He had his time.”

“It's just a facade,” Henry said with a sudden determination, “a way to rook our enemies into believing we are housed elsewhere.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay, enough with the decoder talk. How about you tell us what this whole ‘Men of Letters’ business is, or you're on your own.”

Henry turned on him with a hard look, and you could see suddenly just where Dean got all his hard looks from. “It's none of your concern,” he said.

Dean gave him a wry smile. “Why, because we're hunters? What do you have against us?”

“Aside from the unthinking, unwashed, shoot-first-and-don't-bother-to-ask-questions-later part, not much, really.”

You took a step forward, tired of hearing him put down the greatest men you knew. “You know what? Wait a second. They're also John's children,” you said.

That gave him pause. He gave you a nod and the hard look fell away. “They're more than that, actually. My father and his father before him were both Men of Letters, as John and you two should have been. We're preceptors, beholders, chroniclers of all that which man does not understand. We share our findings with a few trusted hunters – the very elite. They do the rest.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised and the corner of his lip curled up in a smirk. “So you're like Yodas to our Jedis.” Henry gave him a blank look, causing him to shake his head. “Never mind. You'll get there.”

“Okay,” Sam said, “but if you guys were such a big deal, then why haven't we – or anyone we know – ever heard of you?”

Henry thought on that for a moment before a look of realisation came over his face. “Abaddon,” he whispered. Then he turned on his heel and barged into the comic store, slowing when he saw the comic art that was hung up on the walls. 

“Henry,” Sam said when he finally stopped in his tracks completely. “Why? Why'd she do it?”

Without looking back at you, he pulled a small wooden box from his inner coat jacket and held it up to show the three of you. You noticed the symbol that had been carved into it was the same symbol that had been partially covered up on the door.

“I think for this,” he said.

“Okay, what's that?”

“I wish I knew.” He tucked the box back into his coat pocket. “Abaddon attacked us the night of my final initiation. All secrets were to be revealed then.”

Dean nodded. “Let me get this straight. You travelled through time to protect something that does you don't know what from a demon that you know nothing about?” Henry glanced back at Dean before heading further down the hall until he got to the main area of the building. “Good.”

There’s a counter in the main area, behind which is a young woman in black wearing a studded leather collar. The three of you stopped just behind Henry again as he looked around the store.

“Hand me your... walkie-talkie,” he said suddenly. 

You shared a confused look with the brothers before Sam pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to Henry. “You mean my phone?”

“Even better.” When Henry held Sam’s phone up to his mouth and said, “Operator, I need Delta 457,” you knew you were in trouble. 

You yanked the phone away from him with a sigh. “Who are you not calling?”

Henry pressed his lips together. “Our emergency number.”

“Yeah. Not anymore.” You handed the phone back to Sam. 

“They can't all be gone. There must be another elder out there who can help us figure out how to stop Abaddon and what to do with the box.”

You plastered on your most charming smile and approached the woman behind the counter when you noticed she was working on a laptop. “Hey, uh, hi. Can we hijack your computer for a hot second?”

Henry laughed as he followed you. “Like you could fit a computer in this room.”

The young woman frowned with a confused smile but turned her laptop towards you anyway. “Thanks. Okay, Henry, uh, give me a name – anybody who, uh, might have been there that night – one of those elders.”

Henry gave the laptop a dumbfounded look but blinked hard and thought when you asked for a name. “Um... Ackers, David. Larry Ganem.” You began typing the names into a search engine. “Um, Ted –”

“Okay, here it is,” you said as you pulled up an old article. “Um, August 12, 1958. A tragic fire at a gentlemen's club. Uh, 242 Gaines Street.”

“This is 242 Gaines Street,” Henry said. “But that was no fire.”

“Larry Ganem, David Ackers, Ted Bowen, and Albert Magnus – all deceased.”

“Albert Magnus,” Henry said slowly.

“He a friend of yours?” Dean said.

“Even better.”

****

You shone your flashlight on the four headstones in front of you and sighed. Goosebumps appeared on your arms as you gave the cemetery another once over. Sam stepped up behind you and wrapped his hands around your upper arms, rubbing them up and down to try and keep in the warmth, though the chill had nothing to do with the temperature of the night.

You had to admit, though, it felt nice to have Sam touch you like that. For a moment you let yourself forget the problems the two of you had been having and leaned back into him.

“These were my friends,” Henry said wistfully as he stared down at the headstones, “my mentors, our last defence against the Abaddons of the world.”

“Here's your buddy Albert Magnus,” Dean said as he shined his flashlight on the headstone in question. 

“Albertus Magnus,” Henry said. “He was hardly a buddy. He was the greatest alchemist of the middle ages.”

“Okay,” Sam said as he squeezed your shoulders, digging his thumbs into just the right spot, “so why is he buried here?”

“He's not. His was the alias we'd use when going incognito. I believe someone planted his name in that article... so that if a Man of Letters came looking for answers, he'd know something was amiss.”

“So someone wanted you to come to this grave.”

Henry nodded. “The question is why.”

“What is that?” you asked as you shined your light on the unicursal hexagram symbol on the tombstone. The same one that was on the box.

“Our crest,” Henry said. “The Aquarian Star, representing great magic and power. They say it stood at the gates of Atlantis itself.”

You moved your light over each of the tombstones before settling on the one at the end. “It's on all the tombstones except for this one – uh, Larry Ganem.” 

Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment and you let out a quiet hum of contentment as Sam dug his thumbs into the back of your shoulders again. You swayed against him and he dropped a kiss on the top of your head as he held you steady. 

You didn’t know what had gotten into him all of a sudden. But you sure as hell didn’t want him to stop.

“You’re right,” Henry said as he crouched by the headstone. “It has the Haitian symbol for speaking to the dead instead. This is the message.” He looked over his shoulder at Sam and Dean. “You boys ever exhume a body?”

****

The body in the grave hadn’t been Larry but rather a WWI veteran named Captain Thomas J. Carey III. The name hadn’t meant anything to Henry, but Dean suggested that maybe Larry was alive and had left the body in his fake grave as a message to any Men of Letters that went looking. 

With the boys covered in dirt, the four of you headed back to the motel room to try and find something on the veteran. Of course, that meant you, Sam and Dean looked while Henry lounged back on the couch and whistled.

You sat at the table between Sam and Dean, reading through John’s journal with Sam while Dean looked up the veteran on the laptop. 

“What is that? I know that tune,” Dean said to Henry suddenly. 

Henry glanced at him. “As Time Goes By. I hope so. It's from Casablanca.”

Sam snorted and looked at Dean. “Right. Dad used to whistle it from time to time.”

“Your father saw Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy at the drive-in one night. It scared the beeswax out of him. So I got him this little music box that played that song to help him sleep at night. It worked like a charm.”

“Wow,” Sam scoffed, “it's hard to believe Dad was ever scared of anything.”

You put a hand over your mouth as you let out a long yawn. Sam tunnelled his fingers through your hair and looked down at you. “Do you want to go to bed?” he asked softly.  
You shook your head. “No, you need all the help you can get.”

“Okay,” Sam said as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. “Well, let me know. I’ll lie down with you until you fall asleep.”

You looked up at him and lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Or you can just … stay. And fall asleep with me.”

Sam’s lips curled up in a small smile. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

“I’m confused,” Henry said as he frowned at the two of you. “What’s going on? Dean said that the two of you were dating.”

“Uh …” You looked to Sam and Dean for help. You’d completely let it slip your mind that Henry was from the 50s and would probably find your behaviour with the brother’s strange. Of course, it probably seemed strange to people of your time too, except they were a little more open-minded than people of Henry’s time.

Henry sat up straight. “Are – are you harlot?”

“Hey!” Sam and Dean yelled at the same time, making you jump.

“She isn’t a hooker,” Dean said. “That’s all you need to know. Now apologise.”

Henry gave you a sheepish look. “My apologies. It seems things have changed far more than I originally thought.”

“Yeah,” you said with a wry smile. “Men can cry and women can sleep with as many people as they want. It’s a beautiful century.”

Henry rubbed his hands against his thighs and avoided your gaze. 

“Hey,” Dean said as he looked back at the laptop, “uh, according to county records, Tom Carey lives in Lebanon, Kansas, and is a very happy 127-year-old.” He closed the laptop. “I say we get some shut-eye, head over first thing in the morning.”

You nodded and glanced back down at the journal in front of you. By chance, you saw the name that you were looking for. “Wait,” you said as you leaned forward and skimmed over the passage. “Listen to this. According to John's journal, he once tortured a demon that said he made his bones working for Abaddon, who, it turns out, is a Knight of Hell.”

“What does that even mean?” Dean said.

“Knights of Hell are hand-picked by Lucifer himself,” Henry said. He looked relieved with the change in subject. “They are of the first-fallen, first-born demons.”

“So very pure, very strong,” Sam said.

Henry nodded and stood. “Legend has it that Archangels had killed all of them, which, as we have witnessed, is not the case.”

“Unless she's the last of her kind,” Dean said. 

Henry nodded again and pointed at the journal. “You say that belonged to your father?” 

“Yeah,” Sam said.

Henry stepped up to the table. “May I?” 

Sam slid the journal over to him. “It’s a hunter's journal. I assume Men of Letters – you use journals, too?”

“I intended to,” Henry said as he flicked to the front. “I sent away for one the day before my initiation.” He lifted a photo in the front and looked down at the letters stamped underneath it. “As a matter of fact, judging by my initials here, this one, I believe.”

“That was yours?” you said.

“It must have arrived after...” He looked up, his expression dropping as he came to the same realisation that you had earlier that day. “I'm beginning to gather I don't make it back from this time, do I?”

“We don't know for sure,” Sam said. “All we do know is that Dad never saw you again.”

“What did he think happened to me?”

“He thought you ran out on him,” Dean said.

Henry sank into the last chair at the table. “John was a legacy. I was supposed to teach him the ways of the Letters.”

“Well, he learned things a little differently.”

Henry looked up at Dean. “How?”

Dean leaned forward. You watched the sadness and anger well up in his eyes. “The hard way. Surviving a lonely childhood, a stinking war... only to get married and have his wife taken by a demon... and later killed by one himself. That man got a bum rap around every turn. But you know what? He kept going. And in the end, he did a hell of a lot more good than he did bad.” He glanced at Sam who looked away in shame. 

Henry leaned back in his chair. “I'm sorry. I wish I had been there for him.”

Dean lifted his lip in a sneer. “Yeah, it's a little late for that now, don't you think?”

You said his name as he stood and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. He ran a hand down the back of your head as he walked past and headed towards the door. 

“It's the price we pay for upholding great responsibility,” Henry called to him. “We know that.”

Dean paused by the door and looked back at him. “Your responsibility was to your family, not some glorified book club!”

“I was a legacy. I had no choice.”

Dean scoffed and shook his head before mumbling, “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

You thought for a moment about whether or not you should go after him. Just as you made the decision to, another yawn tore from you and you felt your eyes droop. Your restless night before was finally catching up to you.

“Come on,” Sam said softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“But Dean …” you mumbled as he pulled you to your feet.

“He’ll be fine. But you won’t be any good to him if you can’t stay awake.”

You grumbled something incoherent as Sam steered you towards his bed. The moment you felt his warmth curl around you under the covers, you fell asleep. For once, you didn’t think about him curled around another woman, and you didn’t crawl back into Dean’s bed when he came back later and kissed you goodnight.

****

The next morning, the three of you woke up to find Henry had gone and left behind a note saying he was going to fix everything. 

“Now we know what he meant by ‘fix everything’,” Dean said as he walked back into the motel room.

“What?” Sam said.

“He broke into the trunk, stole an angel feather. I'm guessing he's gonna whip up another one of those blood spells and Marty McFly himself back to the 1950s.”

“To do what? Stop Abaddon before she strikes?”

Dean held his hands out to the side. “Or grab Dad and haul ass. Look, point is he's doing it.”

“How?” you said. “He still needs two ingredients for the spell. Unless...” you trailed off as you rushed to Sam’s laptop, “unless there's some place nearby that sells real hoodoo.”

“I'll call Garth.”

“Wait,” you said as the police scanner on the laptop came to life. “It just hit the wires – one dead at Astro Comics.”

 

“Abaddon?”

“Yeah, has to be.”

“Okay, so she's close,” Dean said. “Y/N, you help me find Henry. Sam – find Larry. Figure out how to kill this chick.”

****

You managed to find a hoodoo shop nearby on your phone. When the two of you made it inside, it was to find Henry chanting in front of a glowing symbol he’d drawn on the door that led to the back.

“Henry, wait!” you said.

“This is a risk I have to take,” he said with his back to you.

“And what if you die, huh?” Dean said. “Who said you'll even survive a jump?”

Henry turned to face the two of you and the symbol stopped glowing. “You cannot begin to understand how I felt after reading John's journal.”

“Oh, I think I can. See, I've read that thing more times than you can imagine, and it hurts every time.”

“Maybe so, but you didn't let him down!” Henry said. “I did! Just like you said!”

“Well, I was wrong.”

“No! No, you were right. And I'm going to go back and give him the life he deserves, not the one he was forced to live.”

“And what if it's not meant to be?”

“Then it will be!”

You shook your head. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because it's the right thing to do! I can save him and stop Abaddon!”

“How?’

“By going back an hour before she attacks and making preparations.”

You rubbed a hand over your mouth mentally counting down the seconds until Abaddon finally showed up. “If you do that and you change the past, Sam and Dean might cease to exist!”

“I'm aware that time is a delicate mistress,” Henry said, “but I'm willing to bet on this being for the best.”

Dean took and angry step forward. “Listen, I understand that this is not your idea of a happy ending, okay, and that – that you're disappointed that me and Sam are mouth-breathing hunters. But you know what? We stopped the Apocalypse.”

“If this works the way I planned, there will never be an Apocalypse to stop.”

Before either you or Dean got a chance to reply, your phone rang – it was Sam.

“Sammy?” you said in answer.

A feminine laugh came over the line. “No. Much sexier. Try again. 

“Abaddon.” Dean and Henry looked at you.

“Good girl,” Abaddon said. “Now listen up – I want to make a good, old-fashioned horse trade. Henry and the key for your boyfriend. Or he dies.” You closed your eyes in dread. “Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” you said.

“On the road to Larry's, there's a processing plant. Don't keep me waiting. Oh, and Y/N? I don’t care if Dean comes or not. But you … you better be there.”

You hung up with that last sentence echoing through your head.

“Abaddon has Sam?” Henry said as Dean ran an anxious hand through his hair. 

“She wants to trade you and the key for Sam's life,” you said, leaving out the part where she specifically wanted you to deliver him.

“If I could just go back,” Henry said, “stop this all from happening.”

“And what if you can't?” you snapped. “I can't take that risk – not with Sammy on the hook now.”

You could tell by Henry’s expression that he wasn’t ready to give in just yet. You weren’t willing to wait. All you could think about was your Sammy and the danger that he must be in. You thought about all the stupid fights you’d been having with him and wished you could take them all back. You just wanted him standing beside you, safe and sound.

“I can't abandon my son, Y/N! Not again! I need to do this. I'm sorry.” He turned back to the sigil on the door and it began glowing again as he took back up the chanting you’d interrupted.

You thought about all the monstrous things you would do to save Sammy, then you nodded at Dean and he stepped forward to wrap Henry up in a chokehold.  
“I'm sorry, too,” you whispered. 

****

Henry didn’t wake up until night had fallen and you were well over half way to the meetup point. He sat up in the back seat of the Impala, rubbing his neck. After a mild protest, Dean gave him a heartfelt speech on saving his brother and he quieted down enough to listen to the plan the two of you had come up with.

Once Dean pulled up to the processing plant, you handcuffed Henry’s arms behind his back after he assured you he’d be able to get out of them. 

You were more than a little rough with him when you led him inside with Dean coming behind you. It wasn’t all acting, though. You were just as anxious as Dean to get Sam back, and a lot less calm.

“Don't do it, Y/N,” Henry said once the three of you walked into an open room and saw Abaddon with Sam standing beside her – his hands tied in front of him. You’d known Abaddon wouldn’t have fallen into your and Dean’s trap if Henry was calm and collected, so you’d told him to protest as much as he wanted. 

“Too late for that now,” you said. 

“That's the problem with you hunters. You're all short-sighted.”

“Yeah, at least we're not extinct.” You pushed him away from you and he stood there with as much anger and fear in his expression as he could muster. You didn’t think he had to dig too much to make it happen. “Abaddon! I'll send Henry here over with the box. You do the same with Sam. No tricks.” 

You held up the box she’d been after to show her you had it, then you made a show of putting it in his pocket. Though a slight of hand had a box of cards going into his pocket instead. 

“My only interest is Henry and the key,” Abaddon said. “You three are free to go. Though I do hope to see you again, Y/N. We have so much to talk about.”

You gave Dean a look, silently telling him that now wasn’t the time to wonder about her comment. You looked back to Abaddon and, without hesitation, shoved Henry roughly towards her. He gave you a hard look and didn’t move any further. 

You clenched your teeth as you pulled your gun from the back of your pants and held it up. “You can do this standing, or you can do it crawling. Your call.”

Henry’s jaw ticked and he began walking towards Abaddon. She dropped the hand she’d been holding behind Sam and he rushed forward, apologising to Henry as he passed him.

“Save it,” Henry said.  
Sam hesitated for a moment as he watched Henry before rushing the rest of the way towards you.

“Don't do this, guys,” he said when he made it to you. “This is a bad idea.”

“Shut your mouth,” Dean said as he pulled his knife from its sheath and cuts the rope tying Sam’s hands together. “Let's go.”

The three of you turned to rush outside, but before you could make it out of the area, the large door rolled shut. 

You turned to Abaddon with a snarl. “We had a deal!”

She laughed. “Surprise. I lied. You really think I would let someone like you go? And, of course, I can’t have your little dogs chasing after me when I take you now can I?”

Dean and Sam looked at you. “Y/N, what is she talking about?” Dean said.

“I don’t know,” you snapped.

Abaddon didn’t elaborate either. Instead, she plunged her hand into Henry’s abdomen as Sam shouted out for him.

“Wait. Wait,” Dean said, grabbing his brother’s arm when he went running towards Henry.

Abaddon pulled her hand from his abdomen and smiled as she looked at you. She didn’t see henry smile. Nor did she see him escape from the cuffs or the gun he had in his hand.

“You're not the only one who lied,” Henry said. Then he yanked Abaddon’s head back by the hair and shot a bullet straight through the bottom of her chin. It wasn’t just any bullet, though, it had a devil’s trap carved into the top of it. When Henry had told you about it, you’d wondered how you’d never thought to do that yourself. 

Abaddon laughed, blood dripping down her neck. “Whoo! What a blast.” She turned to Henry. “Now, give me the box.” She reached into his pocket. When she pulled out the pack of cards she threw it to the ground with a growl. 

“Where is it?!” she screamed, causing the lights to burst and sparks to fly. When no one said anything she snarled, “Okay. We can do this the hard way.” She reached forward and took Henry’s chin in a tight grip. She opened her mouth and black smoke poured out of it. Before it could reach Henry, it hit what seemed to be a force field. 

With another growl, she shoved Henry to the ground. When Sam ran to him, she tried to move towards him, only to find that she couldn’t. She screamed again, shattering a window. “Why am I stuck?!”

Dean unsheathed his machete as you and he stormed towards Abaddon. You stopped a little ways in front of her while Dean circled to her back.

“What did you mean?” you said. “When you said you wanted to take me with you? Who am I to you?”

She laughed. “You mean you don’t know, pet? Why don’t you go ahead and dig this bullet out? I’ll tell you all my little secrets.”

You scoffed. “I’m not that stupid.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to kill you, sweetheart. In fact, I want to protect you.”

You frowned. “Why?” She smiled and said nothing. She’d set her terms, too bad you weren’t willing to play ball. “Well, you might not want to kill me. But I sure as hell want to kill you.”

She laughed again. “You can’t kill me, pet.”

“Maybe not. But you’ll wish I could.” You took a step back and Dean swung his machete forward, separating her head from her neck in one smooth motion. Her body collapsed to the ground and her head rolled towards your feet. You crouched down and looked at it, knowing that she could see and hear everything. “The demon trap in your noggin is gonna keep you from smoking out. We're gonna cut you into little steaks and bury each strip under cement. You might not be dead, but you'll wish you were.”

You straightened and Henry smiled. “We did it,” he panted. His face had gone pale and sweat began beading on his forehead as Sam cradled him in his arms.

“No, you did it,” Dean said. “For a bookworm, that wasn't bad, Henry.”

“I'm sorry I judged you two so harshly for being hunters. I should have known better.”

“About?” Sam said as Dean crouched down in front of him. 

“You're also Winchesters. As long as we're alive, there's always hope. I didn't know my son as a man, but having met you two... “ Henry grabbed Sam and Dean’s hands in his own, 

“I know I would have been proud of him.”

He breathed out his last breath as Sam and Dean shared a look. You pressed your lips together as you pulled the box from your back pocket and looked down at it. What the hell was it?”

****

“I get it now,” Sam said as he finished hammering in Henry’s makeshift headstone into the ground next to the other Men of Letters headstones. “What Cupid said about heaven busting ass to get Mom and Dad together. The Winchesters and the Campbells – the brains and the brawn.”

“You met Cupid?” you said in shock. 

Sam let out a short laugh at your surprise and pulled you in against him. “Yeah. I’ll tell you all about it sometime.”

“I'm glad you see it,” Dean said. “All I see in our family tree is a whole lot of dead.” He buried a hand into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the old photograph you’d seen Henry looking at the day before. “Hey, I, uh... found this in Henry's wallet.”

“Dad looks happy,” Sam said as he looked down at it. 

“Kind of makes you wish he knew the truth, huh? I mean, all those years thinking his old man ditched when the poor son of a bitch really came here and saved our bacon.” Dean  
shook his head. “Freaking time-travel, man.”

“You think it would have made a difference?” you said. “If he'd had his own father around.”

“What, in how he raised us?” Dean said. “Y/N, he did the best he could.”

“I know that. I – I do. They all did.” You pulled the box from your back pocket again and looked at it as you mulled over what Abaddon said about you.

“What are the chances that place is still standing?” Dean said.

“A chance we've got to take, I guess. I mean, we are legacies, right?” Sam said.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, “and what the hell am I?”

Sam squeezed your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Abaddon was just trying to get under your skin.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “You’re Y/N. Our Y/N.”

You nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile. Dean dropped an affectionate kiss on your forehead before heading back to the car. Sam went to follow but you stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Is everything all right?” he said as he looked down at you.

“Yes … no … I don’t know.” His brow furrowed as he watched you. At a loss for words, you did the only thing you could. You fisted his coat in your hands and pulled him down roughly so you could kiss him. 

He took him no time to cup your head in his hands and respond with vigour. You pulled away from him far too soon and he panted as his eyes studied your face, dropping to your lips more than once.

“What was that for?” he said.

“I was so scared for you,” you said. “When Abaddon called and said she was going to kill you I – I –”

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay, now,” Sam cooed as he petted your hair and kiss your forehead. “I’m okay. She’s not gonna hurt me.”

You nodded. “I know that. It’s just … when she said that, I just kept thinking about how stupid I’ve been to push you away like I do. And all the fights that we have.”

“It’s not stupid, Y/N.”

“But it is! I mean – I – I love you, Sam. I am completely and utterly in love with you, and a hunter’s life is way too short for me to not forgive you. So … I forgive you. And … and I want to start again.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He let out a short laugh and pressed his lips to yours again. You could feel him smile as he kissed you, and you told yourself that Amelia no longer existed in your world anymore. She didn’t exist in Sam’s either. Not even her ghost lingered.


	23. Hell Hound Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin finally found a way to close the gates of hell. You, Sam and Dean travel to Idaho to complete the first trial, though you and Dean don't see eye to eye on who exactly should take the brunt of it. And you realise how little hope Dean actually has for his future with you.

“Sammy,” you cried out as you writhed beneath the youngest Winchester. Your hands tunnelled through his hair and pulled as your thighs squeezed around his head and your hips bucked against his face. 

He growled, his mouth filled with your most intimate parts as he brought his arm down like cast iron across your hips and used his other hand to pry one of your thighs away and pin it to the bed. 

The only outlet you had for the pleasure that coursed through your veins was arching your back and wailing like a banshee. 

At some point, Sam’s growls of possessiveness simply became the way he breathed. Every breath in was a snarl and every breath out was a growl. 

Your sweet, darling Sammy – the biggest, scariest looking teddy bear in your life – turned into a damn animal in the bedroom. 

You supposed that not having decent sex in weeks could have contributed to his over-the-top animalistic tendencies that day. But you really hope he kept it up. Sometimes a woman just needed to be pinned down and eaten like she was her man’s last meal.

It was hot. 

Your legs began to shake and you twisted your fingers in Sam’s hair again as your orgasm suddenly began building to its climax. “Sammy,” you mewled, “Oh god, I’m cumming.”

He didn’t stop, if anything he became more ravenous. He hadn’t stopped the last time either. Or the time before that, or the time before that. 

It’s like a switch in his mind flicked the moment the three of you had found the Men of Letters bunker and gotten comfortable. He’d been handsy all day, and then once night fell and Dean toddled off to his new room, Sam had you naked and sprawled out on his bed with his head between your legs. He hadn’t come up for air for at least 20 minutes. 

You hummed in content once you’d finally come down and Sam began lapping lazily at your juices. He ran his tongue over your outer lips and through your folds. Cleaning up the mess he made all the while avoiding your oversensitive clit.

He’d done that after every one of your orgasms. In those moments he seemed more like a big, content cat than the animal he’d been when he ate you out. But eventually that animal would return, and his mouth would find it’s way back to that bundle of nerves and he’d start all over again.

This time, you squealed when his mouth pressed against that spot again. You slapped at his shoulders and tried desperately to bring your thighs together.

“Sammy, stop,” you laughed. “I can’t. No more. Have mercy, please.”

He chuckled along with you as he finally pulled his face away and crawled up your body to settle between your legs. 

With a smile, you reached up and pulled his head down to yours so you could lick clean his glistening chin and lips.

“It’s so hot when you do that,” he murmured before capturing your lips with his. 

“Mm, you think everything about me is hot.” With a buck of your hips, you had him on his back in a second while you straddled him. 

He let out another chuckle as he let his hands trail up your thighs and rest at your hips. “Hard to argue with that.”

You sank your teeth into your bottom lip and let your fingers slide down between your bare breasts and over your stomach. 

“God, I’ve missed you,” he said as he watched you.

You smiled. “Yeah? Well, now that you have me, what are you gonna do with me?”

He groaned and threaded his fingers through your hair so he could bring you down for a passionate kiss. “First,” he said when he pulled away, “I’m going to fuck you.” He kissed you again. “Then, I’m going to live a very long and very happy life with you.” Another kiss. “Then, at some point during that very long and very happy life, I’m going to make you my wife.”

You kissed him again so he wouldn’t see the hesitation in your face. You wanted nothing more than to be Sam’s wife one day. But you also wanted to be Dean’s. You knew that having them both could only stretch to a certain extent, and then the law would step in and tell you that you were wrong for loving two men so deeply. That you were greedy. That you would ruin the sanctity of marriage.

Except the sanctity of marriage was ruined a long time ago. It was ruined when little girls were forced to marry old men. And when women were brought for the price of a pig and had no say in who they married. The sanctity of marriage was ruined long before anyone thought marriage could be between more than a man and a woman of the same race. 

You didn’t tell Sam this, though. You didn’t tell him that it was impossible to marry him in this day and age. Because you wouldn’t marry one without the other. You couldn’t do that to them.

So you let Sam think that one day you would say yes when he got down on one knee for you. And who knew, maybe by that time you would be able to marry them both. 

****

You smiled and leaned against Dean’s doorway as you watched him bustle about his room, straightening weapons on their hooks and smoothing over his bed sheets. The room looked like home. 

You pushed off the doorway and walked a few steps in as Dean placed an old photo down on his bedside table. You’d glimpsed it before, knew it was of him and his mum. You hoped that one day he would open up and tell you about her, but you couldn’t begin to know what it was like to lose a mother that loves you – so you let him go. He would talk to you when he was ready. And if he never did … well, that was okay too.

“Wow,” you said as you glanced about the room.

He turned to you with a thousand watt smile and you knew he was happy. The kind of innocent happy that trauma destroyed. Once in a blue moon, you saw a little glimmer of it in his eyes and it made all the bad times worth it. It made you fall in love with him all over again. 

“It’s looking pretty good, Dean.”

He raised his brows. “Pretty good? I haven't had my own room – ever. I'm making this awesome. I got my kickass vinyl, I've got this killer mattress.” He sank down on his bed and patted it affectionately. “Memory foam – it remembers me.”

You laughed as you closed the distance between you to sink down into his lap. You rested your head on his shoulder and he kissed the top of your head. 

“I get it, you know,” you said after a few minutes.

“Hm?”

“Having your own room. A place to call your own. I get why it’s exciting. I’ve … I’ve never really had a home. I mean, I had a house … but I lived with monsters – the kind that salt and holy water won’t help. And then when I was at the hospital … well, that was just trading one prison cell for another, less scary one.” You breathed out a sigh.

When Dean’s strokes up and down your back paused and he didn’t answer right away, you closed your eyes briefly in dread before pulling back to look up at him with a forced smile.

“I’m sorry,” you laughed. “You were so excited about your memory foam bed and I just made this all about me.”

“Hey,” Dean growled as he slapped the side of your hip. “Stop that.”

“Ow,” you whined as you rubbed at your tender flesh. “What the hell was that for?”

“For being stupid. I’m your boyfriend, Y/N. Better yet, I’m your partner, okay? Your life partner. I knew what I was getting into when I made the choice to become that. Sam did too. We knew what baggage we were taking on but we did it anyway. Don’t think for a second that we don’t wanna hear what crap you’re dealing with. I don’t care how happy we look if you’ve got something on your mind than say it. That’s what we’re here for. Just like you take on our baggage all the time. Don’t ever apologise for that. You hear me?”

You felt your eyes well up as you smiled up at him. “Yeah, I hear you.”

He nodded once and patted your ass. “Good. Now up. I’m gonna grab us some grub.”

The two of you stood and you looked around the room once more before calling out to Dean. He stopped in his doorway to look back at you. You gave him a small smile that was filled with all the adoration that you could muster. “I love you,” you said.

His lips parted and you watched as his face softened. He drew in a deep breath and watched you a moment before he nodded and left.

That was okay. He didn’t need to say it back. Sam had a way with words that twisted your heart and brought butterflies to your stomach, but Dean was far better at showing you how he felt than telling you. And you were okay with that.

****

You sat atop the table in the bunker library with a book open in your lap while Sam sat in the seat to the left of your legs reading through yet another lore book. Dean strolled in holding three plates of homemade burgers. He handed one to you before placing one down in front of Sam and the other on the table on your right side. 

After finding out that you and Sam were making your way through the bunker’s library, he gave you a wet kiss and dropped down into his own chair. You frowned slightly as you looked down at the burger on your plate.

“You made these?” you said with a half-smile.

Dean gave you a look. “We have a real kitchen now.”

“I know. I-I just didn't think you knew what a kitchen was.”

Sam chuckled as Dean rolled his eyes and gestured to your burger. “I'm nesting, okay? Eat.”

You shrugged and took a bite out of it. “Oh my god,” you moaned.

“Huh? Yeah,” Dean said with a smile as he watched you. “You're welcome.”

“I’m so attracted to you right now,” you mumbled through your mouthful of heaven. 

His smile turned to a grin that fell away the moment his phone rang before he could take a bite of his own burger. He sighed before answering it. “Yo. What? Kevin? Kevin?!”

“Something wrong?” Sam said when Dean hung up.

“Guess,” Dean said before grabbing his plate and coat and heading towards the bunker entrance. You and Sam followed – neither of you leaving your burgers behind either.

****

When you found Kevin puking in Garth’s boathouse toilet, you wished the ‘something wrong’ had been him getting kidnapped. You had a sensitive stomach filled with a delicious burger you did not want to regurgitate. 

Not even the blood nose, dark circles and washed out skin could make you feel sympathy over gross discomfort. 

“Wow. You look like hammered crap,” Dean said as Kevin sat at his table and began wiping his nose.

“Yeah,” Kevin replied in a nasal voice.

“Are you sleeping?” 

“Not really.”

“Are you eating, at least?” you said.

“Hot dogs, mostly.”

“Sure, yeah – breakfast of champions. Look, I'm gonna feel dirty saying this, but you might want a salad and a shower.”

“I know,” Kevin said, “and I've been getting bad headaches and nosebleeds, and I think maybe I had a small stroke. But it was worth it.”

“What was worth it?” Sam said.

Kevin stood up and gave the three of you a wide grin that looked out of place on his sickly face. “I figured out how to close the Gates of Hell.”

You and Sam let out surprised chuckles as Dean rushed towards him. “Come here you smelly son of a bitch.” He lifted Kevin in a tight hug.

Sam clapped his hands together. “Okay, okay. So, what does this mean? What are we looking at?”

“It's a spell,” Kevin said as he went to his nearby cabinet and picked up a piece of paper with writing scrawled across it. “And it's just a few words of Enochian, but...”

“Here we go,” you said as you took the paper from him and glanced down at it before handing it to Sam. 

“The spell has to be spoken after you finish each of the three trials.”

“T-trials like, uh, like Law & Order?” Sam said.

“More like Hercules. The tablet says, "Whosoever chooses to undertake these tasks should fear not danger, nor death, nor..." A word I think means getting your spine ripped out through your mouth for all eternity.”

You cringed. “Good times.”

“Basically, God built a series of tests, and when you've done all three, you can slam the gates.”

“So, what,” Sam said, “God wants us to take the SATs?”

Kevin shrugged. “I-I guess. Uh, he works in mysterious ways.”

“Yeah, mysterious, douchey ways,” Dean said. “All right. Where do we start?”

Kevin glanced at the notes he had pinned to the wall above the cabinet. “I've only been able to crack one of the tests so far, and it's gross. You've got to kill a hound of hell and bathe in its blood.”

“Awesome.”

“Awesome?” you said as you looked up at him. 

“Yeah. Hey, if this means icing all demons, I got no problem gutting some devil dog and letting Calgon take me away.”

“Where are you gonna find one?” Kevin said.

“Well, Hellhounds like to collect on crossroads deals. So all we got to do is track down some loser who signed over his special sauce 10 years ago, get between him and Clifford the big dead dog –easy.”

“Doesn't sound easy.”

“It's not,” you said.

“Look, you get on the net – see what you can dig up. Me and Sam are gonna go for a supply run because we need goofer dust, and the kid needs to eat something that's not ground-up hooves and pigs' anuses – not that there's anything wrong with that.” 

He left before you could say another word. Sam smiled and kissed your scowling face before following him with a, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

****

“Okay, I feel a lot better,” Kevin said as he walked back into the main area of the boat. He’d showered and was now freshly shaven and wearing clean clothes. 

“Hey, Kevin,” you said as you stood from the table and laptop you’d been working at, “you got to slow down.”

He frowned at you. “What?”

You shrugged. “Get some shut-eye. Take a day off. Open a window.”

“No. You guys said nuking hell – that's how I get out. That's how I go home.”

You nodded. “Right, it is, but you can't live like this.”

“You think I want to?” he snapped. “I hate it here. I can't leave because every demon on the planet wants to peel my face off. I can't talk to anyone except you guys or Garth when he swings by, or my mom. Right? And when she calls, all she does is cry. I just... I need this to be over.”

“I know. I do. But trust me on this – this whole "saving the world" thing – it's a marathon, not a sprint. You got to take better care of yourself.”

He sighed and you gave him a sympathetic smile as you squeezed his shoulder.

Just then, the door opened with a heavy squeak and Sam and Dean stepped through holding plastic bags.

“Hey. Did you know that there are, like, 6,000 kinds of tomatoes?” Dean said as he put the plastic bags down on the table. He gave you a kiss hello before glancing at the laptop. “Did you find anything?”

“Yeah,” you said as Sam stroked a hand down the back of your head before sitting in front of his laptop, “demon signs, 10 years ago, all centred on Shoshone, Idaho.”

“Okay, well, big-time mojo means a big-time freak,” Dean said. “So, anybody have a horseshoe shoved up his ass?”

You chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it.” You cleared your throat and motioned for Sam to turn the laptop around so Dean could see the article you’d been reading. “Meet the Cassity's, small-time farmers who struck oil on their land in February of '03, which is weird because geological surveys—“

“Yeah, you had me at weird,” Dean said. You and Sam shared a look. “All right. We thinking deal?”

“Best lead we've got,” Sam said.

“Well, let's go visit the Beverly Hillbillies.” Dean looked at Kevin. “You stay here, work on step number 2, and, uh, if you come across anything about Hellhounds, drop a dime, okay? 'Cause between the – the claws and the teeth and the whole invisibility thing, those bitches can be... real bitches.” He reached into one of the shopping bags and pulled out two bottles of pills. “I got you a present. The, uh, blue ones are for the headaches, and the greens are for pep.” He handed both bottles to Kevin. “Don't O.D.”

“Thanks?” Kevin said with a sideways glance towards you.

Sam stood and the three of you headed towards the door. “You sure about that?” you asked Dean.

“Y/N, we are on the one-yard-line. I know you’ve got a soft spot for the kid, but it is time to play through the pain.”

****

Dean drove through the automatic gates of Cassity Farms in Shoshone, Idaho before rolling to a stop outside the main house. You were sure that the place was a multi-million   
dollar ranch. 

Dean shut the engine off before turning to you and Sam. “All right, keep an eye out. Anybody with a Hellhound on their ass is gonna be showing signs – hallucinating, freaking out – the usual.”

“And if we find someone?” Sam said.

Dean pulled out his demon knife. “You get 'em clear. I spike fido. The crowd goes wild.” He slipped the knife back into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Great,” you said with a smile. “Well, kisses for good luck.” You placed a hand on each of their shoulders and leaned in to give them both a kiss on the cheek before bounding out   
of the car.

Sam chuckled as he climbed out after you, but neither of you saw the solemn look on Dean’s face as he watched the two of you make your way over to the tractor. His frown deepened as he watched Sam take your hand and press a kiss to the back of it. 

By the time the three of you made it to the tractor, you saw a pair of legs poking out from beneath it and heard the twisting of a wrench. 

“Hey, pal, who runs this joint?” Dean said as he dropped an arm over your shoulders. Surprisingly, Sam didn’t let go of your hand as Dean drew you in close. 

A pretty, young, Hispanic woman slid out from under the tractor on a mechanic’s dolly and stood up.

“You're looking at her,” she said. 

You let your eyes sweep over her body as your lips curled up in a smile. Just as you opened your mouth, Dean’s hand clamped down over it. You rolled your eyes up to him and he quirked a brow at you. It was a look that said you-were-about-to-say-something-sexual-and-we-both-know-it. 

You shrugged in admittance and he took his hand away from your mouth, choosing to slide it around the back of your neck instead. You didn’t think he could get more alpha male possessive if he tried. 

“You... own the ranch?” Sam said.

“Nope, just manage the property,” she said, an accent lilting her speech. “You guys here about the job?”

You smiled and thought quick. “How'd you guess?”

She gave you a half shrug and returned your smile. “We get our share of drifters.” She looked you up and down. "Ever worked a farm before?”

“I’m a quick learner.”

Before she got a chance to reply, a larger, pale man approached the four of you. “Ellie... who we got here?” he said with a smile as he looked at you, Sam and Dean.

Dean stretched his hand out to shake the man’s and said. “I'm Dean. This is Sam. And my partner Y/N.”

“Oh. Carl Granville. A pleasure.”

“So you're not a Cassity?” Sam said.

“No, my wife is. Her and her family own the place. I'm just one those, uh – what you call 'em?” he patted his round belly and laughed, “– trophy husbands.” He looked to Ellie. “So, we, uh, hiring the fellas?”

“Not sure yet,” Ellie said.

“Oh, come on. They seem like swell guys.”

“Well, he's right,” Dean said. “We're swell.” Ellie looked at the three of you with a cocked brow and you all gave her charming smiles.

****

Ellie opened a worn door in the stable to reveal a cramped room with two beds and a desk that barely fit. 

“You bed down in here,” She said. “Breakfast is at 5:00, dinner is at 8:00, and in between, you're mine. Questions?”

Dean pouted as he looked into the room. “I miss my room,” he mumbled.

Ellie frowned and you smiled at her. “We're good.

She nodded. “Okay. Job is yours if you want it. But I better warn you – it's crap work.”

Of course, with your luck, she’d meant that literally. Straight off the bat she’d given the three of you muck rakes and a wheelbarrow and set you loose in the stables.

“Crap,” you said as you scooped up another rake full of straw and horse manure. “She literally meant crap.” You sighed as a horse in the stable next to you whinnied. You walked out of the pen to the half-full wheelbarrow.

Dean grunted as he lifted his own rake of manure and dumped it into the wheelbarrow. With a scowl, he approached one of the horses and promptly told it that he hated it.

Suddenly there was shouting from the open doors of the barn. It was Ellie and what looked to be Alice Cassity, if you remembered her family picture correctly.

They were arguing over organic food for the cattle before Alice stormed off. 

“She's a real piece of work, huh?” you said as Ellie walked into the barn. 

She huffed. “Alice Cassity's a piece of something, all right. But what are we gonna do? She's the boss.”

You smiled. “Drink?” She smiled back before walking past you to the other end of the barn. Dean gave you the bitch face to end all bitch faces. “What?” He didn’t say anything. You threw your hands up and said, “Oh come on, Dean. I wasn’t asking her out for a drink. I was telling her what she could do.”

He turned his head away like a scorned lover and Sam laughed when you looked at him. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said. “I’m secure enough in our relationship to know you would never do something like that.”

Dean glowered at him. “Get off your high horse. I’m secure. I’m … securer than you.”

Sam raised his brows and snorted. “’Securer’? Really?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay guys, focus,” you said with a smile. “What are we thinking?”

“What, deal wise?” Dean said. “Well, Ellie's the help, so that rules her out.”

“And Carl doesn't really seem like the sell-your-soul type,” Sam said. “So, Alice?”

“Ding-ding-ding.”

“Should we talk to her?” you said.

“Why? So she can lie to us and then call the cops?” Dean said. “No. No, we're gonna have to go stalker on this one, baby.”

****

The screaming was the first thing you heard. Then the growling, then the sound of flesh tearing and Carl was no more. He really hadn’t seemed like the type to make a deal. But then no one is really who they seem.

“I'm sorry, Ellie. Carl seemed like a good guy,” Dean said as the four of you stood around Carl’s body. He was covered in a white, blood-stained sheet. The Sheriff was crouched beside him. 

“The best,” Ellie said softly.

“You say his head was practically ripped off?” Sam said to the Sheriff. 

The Sheriff stood with a sceptical look and frowned at Sam. “And you are?” 

You had to bite down on the automatic irritation you felt towards him. You didn’t much like the tone he took when talking to Sam.

“Just curious,” Sam said with a defensive frown of his own.

“He's new,” Ellie said before the Sheriff could say anything more. “He works here.”

He nodded and looked back at Sam. “Carl died bad – let's leave it at that. They've been reintroducing wolves 'round these parts, but I never thought...”

“This wasn't a wolf.” Ellie drew in a deep breath. “I got to make some phone calls. The whole family's flying in for this.”

The Sheriff scoffed once Ellie had left. “All the Cassitys under one roof. Good luck.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean said as the three of you turned around and walked a little ways from the body.

“So, what do you think?” Sam said.

“I think Carl signed the deal, and now he's dog food. Hellhound's gone, and we were too busy chasing a pile of Jack to stop it. Let's grab our stuff and get out of here.”

****

You were the last back to the room, having had an interesting talk with Alice. She’d been brushing down one of her horses in the stable when you’d stopped to ask how she was doing while Sam and Dean went on ahead. Interestingly enough, she wasn’t in the least bit bothered by her husband’s death. She said she’d woken up one day and suddenly found him attractive, and now that he was gone, she didn’t understand what she had seen in him. 

You wished her a good night and rushed straight for your makeshift room to find Sam and Dean. 

“Where’s Sam?” you huffed as you opened the door and only found Dean zipping up his duffel bag – you noticed with mild amusement that he had a pair of your underwear stuffed in there. 

Dean looked up at you. “Bringing the car around. Hey, we, uh, we have any graveyard dirt?”

You frowned in confusion. “We should. Why?”

“Yarrow?”

You nodded and lifted your hands in a shrug. “Yeah. No. Dean, no. We're not summoning a crossroads demon.”

Dean spread his arms out to his sides. “Plan A bombed, so welcome to plan B – we get some red-eyed bitch in a trap, then we hold a knife on her until she calls us in a pooch — special delivery.”

“Yeah, except when Crowley finds out we're dialing up hell, he won't send one hell hound – he'll send a hundred. That's not a plan, Dean – that's suicide.”

“Not if he knows you’re there.” He smiled, as though he’d just come up with a plan that didn’t have about a million holes in it. “You know, I used to think you were insane for thinking Crowley cared about you. But after seeing his little love-eyed act at that auction for the tablet – I believe you. There’s no way in hell – pun intended – he would send hellhounds after you.”

You nodded. “You’re right. He wouldn’t. But hell hounds are smarter than the average bear, Dean. All Crowley has to do is say “Don’t touch Y/N or I’ll skin ya” and they won’t touch me.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well, you got a better idea?”

“Yeah, we stay here. I just talked to Alice in the barn. Carl didn't sell his soul for oil – he sold it for Alice.”

“His wife?”

You shrugged. “He loved her, she barely noticed him, so he made a deal. And now that time's up, it's like she barely even knew the guy.”

Dean thought for a moment before flicking his tongue out over his bottom lip. “You think our demon signed up more than one schmuck while he was in town?”

“Wouldn't be the first time.” Thunder rumbled outside the barn and shook the one window in the room. “Look, Dean, this family's rich because someone booked a one-way ticket downstairs. And as of tomorrow, they're all gonna be right here.”

“And you want to scope 'em out?”

“I want to kill a hellhound and not die. How 'bout you?” You tilted your head slightly as you watched him. He avoided your eyes and that told you all you needed to know.

“Two days – then we do it my way,” he said as he unzipped his bag again.

You nodded. “I’ll tell Sam.”

“Oh, and Y/N?” You turned back to look at him but he still wasn’t meeting your eyes. “I want you in my bed tonight, ‘kay?”

You pressed your lips together and sighed through your nose. You moved towards him and turned him until he looked down at you. Then you cupped his face in your hands and   
rose up on the tips of your toes to kiss him. 

You kissed him until his arms came around your waist and he squeezed you to him like the door wasn’t wide open and Sam wasn’t about to come back anytime soon. You pulled back then and looked him in the eye. 

“You’ve got me now, Dean. You don’t get to do stupid shit anymore. So whatever you’ve been thinking about doing, stop.”

****

You, Sam and Dean, stood with Ellie the next day in the driveway and watched as a black SUV pulled up. An older man with grey hair stepped out of it wearing cowboy boots, hat, and a bolo shoestring tie. 

“Meet Noah Cassity,” Ellie said. “He's 71, worth a billion, and just married wife number 5, a 20-year-old lingerie model.”

“'Cause they have so much in common?” you said, sounding bitter even to yourself. You had only been jealous of one woman in your life (she-who-must-not-be-named) but you had to admit – it sucked when (given the choice) guys seemed to go after the ten-out-of-ten lingerie models. 

Hearing the sour note in your voice, Sam reached down and squeezed a large hand over your ass. You managed to stifle your surprised yelp, but there was no missing you stumbling into him when he used the hold on your ass to pull you against him.

Ellie looked at the two of you with a slight frown for a moment. Her eyes flicked to Dean and she seemed to make her mind up about something. She turned back to look at the SUV just as a woman climbed out of the back of it wearing a mini dress and a short, white fur jacket. She and Noah moved forward to greet Alice as she approached them from the house. 

“Alice is his oldest,” Ellie said, “and that's Cindy, the middle girl. She had a single on the country chart a few years ago. Then she started hitting the bottle, and, well... her last album was a bunch of holiday songs for dogs. My favorites were "Jingle Bark Rock" and "Don't Pee on this Tree: Happy Arbor Day."

“So she's the devil,” Dean said.

“Pretty much.”

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better. The other back door of the SUV swung open and an even younger woman climbed out wearing a sweater and tan pants.

“And there's the baby,” Ellie said. “Margot. She ran away just before Alice and Carl tied the knot, lives in Paris.”

“How do you know all this?” Sam said.

Ellie looked up at him. “I've been working on this farm since I was 13, and I've got eyes. Okay, tonight is an all-hands-on-deck situation. I'm gonna need two of you inside, serving dinner and pouring drinks – a lot of drinks.”

Dean smiled and gave you a pat on the ass. “Okay. Well, you two have fun. I won't wait up.”

“And somebody's gonna man the grill,” Ellie finished as she looked at Dean with a smile that irked you.

Dean smiled back, completely oblivious to the obvious sultry look on Ellie’s face. “What kind of grill?”

****

You’d thought that being inside out of the cold was the best gig you’d gotten all day. Then you had to listen to the Cassity’s throw death threats and vague insults at each other while they demanded more wine from you and Sam. After that, you realised you’d much rather freeze to death.

The best thing to happen at that dinner was for Crowley’s name to come up. You’d bet the King of Hell would get a kick out of you saying that aloud.

“Crowley?” Dean exclaimed. You stood with him out on the deck while you glanced at Sam still pouring wine and washing dishes through the glass doors.

“That's what they said. Apparently, he swung through town 10 years ago, to the day,” you said as you wrapped your arms around yourself and suppressed a shiver. 

“So, what – do you think tea and crumpets made these deals and now he's collecting?” Dean asked as he absentmindedly slid his outer jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

You warmed up almost instantly and felt your stomach do flips at his scent wrapping around you. You gave him an adoring smile, your way of saying you appreciated the little things he did. He was looking out at the trees, though and didn’t notice. In fact, he was acting like it hadn’t happened. That’s just the way he was. He did those little things because he loved you and he felt that it was what he needed to do to show that love. He never expected anything in return. It had gotten to the point where it was second nature for him to do those small gestures – like he didn’t even realise he was doing it half the time.

He looked back at you when you didn’t answer and you realised you’d been staring at him like an idiot.

You cleared your throat and dropped your eyes to the ground for a second before looking up at him. “Or he just sent his dog – told it to go fetch. Dude's king of hell. Grabbing a few souls – that's got to be below his pay grade.”

Dean’s brow creased in thought as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “I guess. Any idea who signed the dotted line?”

You shrugged and pulled Dean’s jacket tighter around you. “I have no clue. It's brutal in there.”

Dean’s mobile blared to life. He pulled it out and put it on speaker once he checked the caller ID.

“Hey, Kev, what's up?” Dean said as he held his phone out so you could talk to Kevin too. 

“Hey, Dean, good news, uh, I think... kind of,” Kevin said.

“Don't oversell it,” you muttered.

“Sorry. Um, I found something on the tablet, uh, about hell hounds. Uh, this mean anything to you – "the dire creatures may be seen only by the damned or through an object scorched with holy fire"?”

“Like with holy oil?” Dean said.

“It's got to be,” you said. “We could use a window.”

“Or glasses.” Kevin said.

“I think we've still got some Jesus juice left in the trunk,” Dean said. “All right, I'll take care of the, uh, the X-ray specs. You and Sammy stay here. Do not let J.R. and the gang out of your sight, all right?”

You nodded. “Okay.” You leaned towards Dean’s phone. “Hey, Kevin? You did great. Get some sleep.”

You heard the smile in Kevin’s voice as he thanked you. Dean hung up and gave you a hard look. “You’re as bad as Sam.”

You shrugged. “I’m right, Dean. He needs to take it easy. And yeah, Sam would say the same thing if he were out here.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s talk about this after we gank Lassie.”

You asked him to wait and shrugged his jacket off your shoulders before he could turn to leave. 

“Hold on to it,” Dean said.

You gave him an incredulous look and handed it to him. “It’s freezing out here. And I’m going inside anyway, they have heaters.”

He took it without further argument and slid it back on over his arms. “Hm, I love it when my clothes smell like you,” he said, as though it weren’t the sweetest thing he’d ever said to you. 

He leaned forward and gave you a messy kiss before rushing off and leaving you smiling after him.

****

You weren’t back in the house for more than five minutes before Noah was leaving with Margot to go hunting for the ‘wolf’ that killed Carl. Of course, to make matters worse, Noah was blind drunk. 

Sam had run off after the two of them, leaving you behind to look after Alice and Cindy (though you were sure he’d done it mostly because he was sick of Cindy’s ken doll   
comments).

Another twenty minutes later, Noah came rushing back to the house in a panic. Margot was dead. Her throat ripped out. And it wasn’t by any wolf. 

Dean and Sam entered the living room not long after that. You’d managed to keep Noah, Cindy and Alice confined to that area.

“What was that thing?” Noah asked as soon as they walked in. You found it slightly sexist that he’d waited for the men to arrive to try and find answers but you were choosing your   
battles. And going up against an old, rich, white guy really wasn’t worth it.

“It was a hell hound,” Dean growled. You could see the deaths were starting to get to him. “See, when you sell your soul to a demon, they're the ones that come and rip it out of you.”

“Demon?” Alice said.

“Crowley. Poncey guy, about yea big, mountain of dicks.”

“Dean!” you snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “Sweety, now isn’t the time to lecture me on how I talk about your daddy, okay?” He looked back to the three stooges and said, “Look, we know he was here 10 years ago, making dreams come true. Now, if you didn't sign, great. That freak out there won't touch you. But if you did, I need to know, and I need to know now. So, hands up.”

“So, wait,” Noah said. “T-the British guy was a demon, and now there's a hellhound after us? A-are you insane?”

“They're obviously insane,” Cindy said.

“Don't play dumb,” Sam said.

“Yeah. I'm not playing. I didn't sell my damn soul.”

“Well, somebody did,” you said, “and the sooner that idiot owns up, the sooner the rest of you can go.”

None of them said a word.

“All right,” Dean said, “seal 'em in.”

“What?!” Alice exclaimed.

“Look,” Sam said, “I'm gonna spread goofer dust around the doors, the windows. That will keep the hell hound out... for a while.”

Noah shot to his feet in a panic. “What is that – how long?”

“Long enough for me to stab it in its throat,” Dean snapped.

Noah sighed. “No way. No way. You can't do this. You can't—“

Dean pulled his gun from the back of his jeans and held it up. “Yes, I can. You want to know why? Because it's what I do. And, buddy, I'm the best. See, I gut old yeller out there, and maybe – just maybe – you walk away. I don't – you're meat. So, sit down, shut up...” he pulled a pair of handcuffs out next, “and put these on.”

None of them spoke again until you and Dean had spread most of the goofer dust and Sam slapped the last cuff in place over Alice’s wrists – effectively tethering her to the coffee table.

“I don't... Who are you people?” Alice said.

“We're here to help,” Sam replied as he came to stand by you and Dean in front of the coffee table.

“Like you helped Margie?” Noah said.

“Shut up,” you snapped. If there was one thing you hated most, it was people blaming the Winchesters for everyone’s death. They had enough blood on their hands; they didn’t need people throwing buckets of it at them.

Sam stroked a hand down your back and gave you a small appreciative smile before addressing the Cassity’s. “When the hellhound gets close, you might start seeing things, hearing things. It's gonna feel like you took the brown acid, and it's trying to kill you. The handcuffs are so you won't hurt yourselves.”

“And when one of you starts bugging out, we'll know who's on tap to be puppy chow,” Dean said before walking off to place one last line of goofer dust behind him at the entrance. You followed him, leaving Sam behind to keep an eye on the family from hell.

“So...what's our play?” you said.

Dean finished the line before straightening and turning to face you. “Well, you and Sam camp here, figure out who whored their soul. I'm gonna go scout the grounds – see if I can't gank Huckleberry Hound before he makes his next move.”

You frowned. “Wait, you're not going alone, Dean. I'm gonna come with you.”

He started towards the front door. “Wrong.”

“Uh, they're on lockdown, Sam’s watching them and you need backup,” you said as you followed him. 

He sighed and stopped to look down at you again. He looked like he’d been anticipating this argument. “No, I don't.”

“Yes, you do.”

He shook his head. “No, I need you to be safe, Y/N, okay? That's what I need.”

You frowned again and gave him a confused smile. “What? When am I – when are we ever safe?”

Dean’s tongue flicked across his lips and he glanced away briefly. “This is different.”

“How?”

“Because of the three trials crap – God's little obstacle course. Me and Sammy, we've been down roads like this before, baby – with Yellow-Eyes, Lucifer, Dick friggin' Roman. Hell, I took you along for the ride on that one and look what happened. We both know where this ends – one of us dies...Or worse.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “So, what – you just up and decided it's gonna be you?”

He shrugged. “I'm a grunt, Y/N. You're not. Neither is Sam. You've always been the brains of this operation.”

You took a step forward, tears piercing the back of your eyes as you realised just how little self-worth he had. “Dean –”

“Sam told me himself that he sees a way out, and you said you’d settle in that life with him if the opportunity ever came a knockin’. You see a light at the end of this ugly-ass tunnel. I don't. All I have is you and hunting. But I tell you what I do know – it's that I'm gonna die with a gun in my hand. 'Cause that's what I have waiting for me – that's all I have waiting for me. I can’t do anything else but this. I can’t give you the life that you want to retire to. I want you to get out. I want you to have a life – become a woman of Letters, whatever. You and Sammy to get married. Have kids and – and – and grandkids, living ‘til you're old and Sammy’s gotta chug Viagra – that is my perfect ending, and it's the only one that I'm gonna get. So I'm gonna do these trials. I'm gonna do them alone – end of story. You're staying here. I'm going out there. If landshark comes knocking, you call me. If you try to follow me … I’m gonna put a bullet in your leg.” 

He paused then as he watched your face fill with tears. It broke his heart to act this firm with you, but he knew if he tried to be gentle you’d try and talk him out of it, and he’d let you. Because the truth was, Dean didn’t want to die. He wanted the life he’d just told you to have with Sam. But he’d been down that road before and it drove him insane. He wasn’t meant for the domestic life. He was gonna die a hunter, and he sure as hell wasn’t taking you down with him. He might not have been able to stop you from hunting, but he was gonna protect you from the big baddies for as long as he could. He was gonna keep you alive long enough for you to decide to live the life you deserved. And he knew that when that time came he’d have to let you go. And maybe that was why he was so intent on going on suicide missions. He didn’t want to live to see that happen. He wasn’t ready to let you go.

He was afraid he never would be.

****

You stood by the living room window, wearing the holy-oiled glasses that Dean had given you. Your arms were folded tightly across your chest as you searched for Dean or the hellhound or both. Sam stood by you wearing his own glasses (you were too upset to even tease him about how hot he was). He was whispering to you. Telling you Dean would be alright. That you’d get the happy ending you wanted. Just … anything to make you smile again. 

Because he missed your smile. He even missed you snapping at the Cassity’s and acting all tough and hot. He couldn’t stand it when you were miserable. 

“You sold your soul. Admit it,” Cindy bickered behind you. You rolled your eyes and sighed at the sound of her voice. You really hoped she’d been the one to sell her soul. 

“Why the hell would you think that?” Noah said.

“'Cause you're a walking corpse, and you're married to a centerfold. I did the math.”

“She likes money, and I'm rich. Do it again. You sing like crap, so explain the music career.”

“Hello!” Cindy yelled. “Auto-tune!”

“God! Just shut up!” you yelled as you turned on them. “I swear, if any of you bitch at each other once more, I will break the damn goofer line and let Fido come in and rip you all to shreds. One of you made a deal. You wanna know how I know? I did the math! Which, Cindy, I doubt you could add two and two so shut the fuck up with that crap. You struck oil where there was none. That didn't seem weird to you?”

“Margie,” Alice said softly. “Margie used to say that – that if we were rich, we'd all be happy.”

Noah scoffed. “Right. We're the damn Waltons.” Silence fell again, and for a second you thought it was the real deal this time. Then Noah said, “I need to take a leak.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hold it,” you growled.

“Yeah, at my age? Not really an option, so either you let me go or get me a bottle.”

“Ugh. You're disgusting,” Cindy said.

You went to yell at them again but Sam stopped you when he urged you to the window. You went, and felt your blood freeze at the sight of an ethereal black form slinking across the lawn towards the barn. All you could think was that Dean was in that barn. 

You heard the door open and close and spun on your heel, hoping it was Dean. It wasn’t. Alice had slipped her cuffs. Honestly, you wouldn’t have cared if she got mauled, but Dean was out there by himself and he couldn’t afford any distractions. 

With a barked command for Sam to stay behind, you ran out the door, grabbing the rifle that leant against the wall as you passed it.

Alice screamed for you to let her go when you caught up to her at her car and took a rough hold of her arm. You all but dragged her back to the house, pausing a moment when you glimpsed the hell hound staring at you from the bushes. 

You snapped at her to get back into the house, scaring her enough that she actually complied with a cry. When you looked back to the bushes and readied the rifle, the hell hound was gone. 

You could have gone back into the house. Done what Dean said. But your legs turned to lead the closer to the house you got. So you ignored him and did what you’d wanted to do in the first place.

****

You found the hell hound in the barn (you figured it must have been going after Ellie if it wanted in there so bad). Dean was on his back, weaponless with no glasses on and a deep wound in his side. You thanked God every day that you’d gotten there when you did because you’d managed to clip it in the side with a bullet just as it lunged at Dean. 

It cowered back and yelped for a moment, and you took the opportunity to drop the rifle and roll towards Dean’s demon knife where it laid in the dirt. Just as you rolled to your back to get up, it pounced on you, and you only just managed to get a hand up around its neck to stop it from sinking it’s teeth in. 

It barked and snarled at you as you gripped the knife tight in your hand and grunted with the effort of holding the hell hound back.

Before you could overthink the consequences, you jammed the blade of the knife into the chest of the hound and dragged it right down until he was gutted and his insides and blood were covering you. 

You gasped as it hit you, surprised at how cold it felt. The hell hound died in your hands and you rolled it to its side before its weight could crush you. 

You looked over at Dean, panting. You thought that if he hadn’t been in so much pain you’d be in big trouble.

****

After Dean got patched up and assured Ellie that as long as she ran with the hex bag they gave her she wouldn’t get dragged to hell, she left and Dean held his hand out to Sam for the Enochian spell. You pressed your lips together as you watched him. 

You’d taken off your outer layers and wiped the black guff from the hellhound off your skin, but now you just stood in your undershirt and trousers, both of which were soaked through with blood. You were glad the stable room had a heater because the blood seemed to be getting colder the longer you stood there. 

“Dean,” Sam said instead of handing over the spell, “even if she can dodge Crowley, as soon as Ellie dies, her soul is earmarked for hell.” 

“Not if we shut it down first,” Dean said. He snatched the spell from Sam before picking up your bloody flannel from the bed and holding it tightly to his chest as he said the spell.

“The spell’s not gonna work for you, Dean,” you said softly when nothing happened.

He pressed his lips together in frustration and tossed the shirt back to the bed. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll track down another hell hound and I’ll kill it.”

“No.”

He looked at you and spread his hands out to his side. “Y/N, I didn’t pass the test.”

You pointed at your chest and took a step forward. “But I did … and I’m doing the rest of them.”

“My ass you are! Sam, tell her.”

Sam didn’t say anything. He was torn between not wanting his brother to go on a suicide mission and knowing you’ll do everything to keep yourself alive but wanting to keep you sheltered anyway. 

“Closing the gates – it's a suicide mission for you.”

“Y/N …”

“No, it is. You think I don’t understand why you’re doing this? I don’t want to lose Crowley, but when push comes to shove I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. Me. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it.”

Dean shook his head, but you could see in his eyes that he was slowly crumbling to your will. “Baby, be smart,” he said.

“I am smart, and so are you. You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius – when it comes to lore, to – you're the best damn hunter I have ever seen – better than me, better than your dad and – and Sam. I believe in you, Dean. So, please – please believe in me, too.”

Dean flicked his tongue out across his bottom lip at a loss for words. He looked at Sam. “Are you really okay with this?” he asked his brother.

Sam shook his head. “No. But it’s her choice. If she thinks she can do it … we have to trust that, Dean.”

Dean sighed and looked down at the paper in his hand one last time before slapping it into the palm of your outstretched hand. 

You took a deep breath before saying the spell. The moment the last word left your mouth you jerked as a sudden dark, heavy feeling settled inside you. Then a piercing pain sliced through your head and you dropped to your knees with a grunt of pain. 

“Y/N,” Dean cried out as he dropped to his knees in front of you. Sam rushed towards you in a panic as well, though he stayed a few steps back to give you space.

You grunted again as electricity burned the nerves in your forearm, emitting a glowing light in your veins. You grimaced from the pain and that was enough to have Sam crouch beside you and push your hair from your face.

“You okay?” Sam said as the light died down.

You panted and fell back onto your ass as you looked up at their worried faces and nodded. “I'm good. I'm okay. I can do this.” You exhaled sharply and tried to ignore the crushing guilt in their eyes.


	24. Remember the Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending three weeks in the bunker doing next to nothing but one small case for an old cop friend of the brother's, Dean is getting antsy to go on another case. You take the first case you can get. A witch hunt for zombies ends with a rather disastrous meeting with Zeus. By the end of it, the effects of the first trial are starting to way on you, and you express your doubts to Dean about whether or not you can actually make it through them.

You thought about all the times you wished the brothers wouldn’t keep things from each other. You thought about all the times you promised you wouldn’t keep anything from them. Then you let the guilt chew you up from the inside as you washed the blood down the sink in the bunker’s control room and looked around to make sure Sam and Dean weren’t there. 

You’d felt fine after the first trial. Even counted your blessings that something hadn’t gone wrong – they usually did with things that big. But they hadn’t that time. Then the coughing began. Thankfully it was nothing you couldn’t hide from the brothers – it was when you started coughing up blood that it became harder to conceal. What made matters worse was you’d just managed to get Dean on board with you doing the trials. He’d even admitted that he trusted you enough to make the right decisions and be careful.

Now you were caught up in a dilemma. You could tell Dean and Sam you were coughing up blood and have them shut everything down and figuratively baby proof everything you come in contact with. Or you could ride it out, and hope that your symptoms didn’t get any worse. They may never have to know so long as you survived the trials. 

“What’s up with you?”

You startled and turned to face Dean, abandoning the frantic scrubbing of the sink and rinsing of your mouth. Dean stood there with a coffee mug in hand wearing one of the Men of Letters robes. It would have been funny if he wasn’t giving you a hard look.

“Nothing. Why?”

He watched you for a moment, disbelief clear on his face but when you said nothing more he took a sip of his coffee and went to sit at the table in front of the strewn out papers you’d been looking at. 

“Heard from Kevin?” he said.

You shook your head. “Nothing yet. Sammy still asleep?”

“Yeah.” He smirked and looked up through his lashes at you. “Went to go wake him up but from what I hear your wore him out last night.”

Even after all this time, he could still make you blush. His playful mood only lasted a few seconds before you had to press the back of your hand to your mouth to let out a single cough. You swallowed the blood back down before it could fill your mouth and stain your teeth. 

Dean’s eyes swept over your body. A cough wasn’t enough to for him to think the trials had messed you up but you could tell he thought you were keeping something from him.

His jaw ticked as he looked back down at the files. “What's it been, like, three weeks? What's taking that little brainiac so long? It's a book. Read it.”

You pressed your lips together and approached the table. “Just a guess, but translating an ancient language with zero help might be more difficult than we think.”

He sighed and looked up at you, spreading his hands out. “So, no word from Cas, Kevin's taking his sweet little time, and you're acting cagey.”

You frowned at his last comment – even opened your mouth to call him out on it – then you realised that you were. Causing a fight over it would only make things worse so you ignored it. 

Thankfully, Sam made that easier by walking into the control room topless and sleepy – just the way you liked him. He made a beeline straight for you and wrapped one arm around your waist from behind and the other around the front of your shoulders, burying his face into your neck so he could bite at the skin there. 

You let out a short laugh at his playfulness and Dean glanced up to watch the two of you. A ghost of a smile tilted the corners of his lips but he looked back down to hide it. He was trying to stay mad at you.

“Baby, as much as I’d love to spend all day and night frolicking around this bunker like a love sick puppy with you,” Dean said, “I don’t get you all day and night. So, we need a lead before I start climbing these walls.” 

Sam straightened and the two of you shared a small smile before you pulled away and picked up the nearby newspaper to hand it to Dean. “Well, in that case,” you said, “I can give you zombies.” Dean frowned and looked down at the front page of the paper. “Guy gets hit by a car; left for dead overnight, guts spilled out all over the road, then gets up and walks away from it.”

“Nothing about brain munching?” Dean said.

“Remember Bobby's wife?” Sam said as he sat down on the chair adjacent to Dean and pulled you into his lap. “She didn't... munch on any brains.”

Dean looked at you. “Well, who's the witness?”

“Montana state trooper,” you said. “Twenty-year vet. Checked his pulse, saw his insides spilled out all over the place, pronounced him dead with a capital D.”

****

“Since when have the Feds started tracking zombie activity?” the police officer said. He sat at his desk looking up at you, Sam and Dean. 

“We don't track zombie activity,” Dean said, “because there's no such thing as zombies.’

“But you can never be too careful,” you said with a grin. 

Sam hid his laugh behind a cough and Dean gave you a sidelong look. You gave him a you-never-know look in return. 

“Why don't you just tell us what you saw?” Dean said.

“Article said it all,” the officer said, “dead as dog poop, guts pecked out, face frozen. People don't walk away from that. Zombies do.”

You could practically feel Dean trying not to roll his eyes. “And you don't think something could have dragged him away?”

“One set of footprints, no drag marks.”

“You didn't go after him?” you said.

The officer scoffed as he looked at you. “That's grizzly country. You couldn't pay me enough to hike those woods, not without a bazooka.”

“Uh, Jack?” The three of you turned to look at the office assistant as she addressed the police officer. “I got something here. Came across the wire from Livingston.” Police Officer Jack and the three of you followed him to the computer the office assistant sat before. Looking over her shoulder, you saw a police report on her screen showing the mauled face and upper torso of the dead walker. 

“John Doe – presumably mauled by a grizzly,” Officer Jack read aloud. “Holy crap, that's him.”

“That's the dead guy?” Dean said.

“Dead my ass. That's a zombie, boys.” Officer Jack rushed straight to the coat rack by the door and fastened his gun belt around his waist. 

You pumped your fist in excitement and turned to follow him.

“Uh, you know what, trooper?” Sam said, stifling his smile as Dean rolled his eyes at your excitement. “Why don't you stay here? We'll take care of this one. We need someone to hold down the fort.”

“You sure?” Officer Jack said.

“Yeah, and if things go all Dawn of the Dead on us, you'll be our first call,” Dean said.

He nodded and gave the three of you a serious look. “Aim for the head.”

****

Turned out the zombie didn’t have ID. He also didn’t have fangs (which ruled him out as being a vampire and fed into your excited delusion that he really was a zombie) or a liver. A bird had taken the latter. 

“Well, I’m disappointed,” you said as the three of you stepped out of the coroner’s office and into the hallway. You looked through the window at the body laid out on the slab.

Sam smiled. “Yeah, 'cause you wanted to shoot zombies.”

“Damn straight I wanted to shoot some zombies.”

“Look,” Dean said, “this is about as open-and-shut as it gets, all right? Guy gets Mack-trucked, goes down for a nap, wakes up, takes a detour into mama bear's den – end of story.”

Sam shrugged. “Then why would he run? He was injured. That trooper could have helped him.”

“I don't know. Shady past?”

“Don't guys with a shady past usually have a fingerprint on file?” you said. 

“Whatever it was, the guy's dead now, all right?” Dean growled. You refrained from getting angry at his snappy attitude. He got angry about not having a case the same way you got angry about not eating for three hours. “Remember what Bobby said, hmm? ‘Woodchipper beats everything’? Yeah, well, so does grizzly bear.”

The three of you turned to look at the body through the window again. Only this time the body wasn’t there – neither was the sheet that had been covering him.   
Dean took off running – you and Sam followed. 

It took all of five minutes to find the guy that was meant to be dead. He didn’t look mauled anymore, but he was running around in a sheet so it wasn’t hard to track him down.   
Dean had his gun out and pressed to the back of the guys head as he bustled him back into the coroner’s office. “You better start talking. What are you?” he growled as he slammed the man face first onto the metal slab.

“Please say you’re a zombie,” you said gleefully. 

Dean gave you a patient look as the man struggled beneath his grip. “Y/N, sweetie, now is not the time play out your apocalyptic, zombie killing fantasies.” 

You crossed your arms and cocked a brow at him but he’d already turned his attention back to the zombie.

With a smile, Sam leaned down and whispered in your ear, “One apocalypse wasn’t good enough for you?”

You stifled your own smile and elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

“I'm not anything,” the man yelled as he held his hands out to the side. 

“Look,” Dean growled, “two minutes ago, you were room temperature. You're something.”

“Look, I don't know what I am, okay? I don't know who I am. All I know is all I do is die, so if you want to shoot me, shoot me. Just promise me you finish the job, 'cause I can't take this anymore.”

Dean pressed his lips together and looked to you (he seemed to do that when he was stuck on what to do morally). You nodded and gave him a reassuring smile – whatever he wanted to do, you would have his back.

“All right,” he said as he stepped back and lowered his gun. “Get up.”

“All you do is die?” Sam said. “What's that supposed to mean?”

The man swallowed as he straightened and looking at Sam, adjusting the sheet around him. “Once a day, for as long as I can remember. After a few hours, I'm back.”

“What are you, like a real-life Kenny?” you said.

“Who?” You and Dean shared a blank look. “No, my name is Shane.”

“All right, well, listen, Shane,” Dean said. “We're not gonna find out what the hell you are in here, so you're gonna come with us, okay? We're gonna run a few tests, make sure everything's kosher.”

“Tests?”

****

Shane (who was now dressed and sitting on your motel bed) grimaced and cried out as Dean dragged his silver blade across Shane’s upper arm.

“Seriously? This is FBI-sanctioned?” Shane said as Dean wiped his blade with a bandana before pressing the material to the cut on Shane’s arm. 

“Drink,” Sam said as he handed Shane a flask of holy water. 

Shane sniffed it before taking a swig and handing it back to Sam.

“All right, so, uh, how long has this dying thing been going on?” Dean said.

“As long as I can remember,” Shane said, “but my memory only goes back a few years.”

“Wait, so now you have amnesia? How do you know your name?”

“My real name isn't Shane. It was given to me because... I don't know, people had to call me something.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “So, then, what happened to you?”

“Got pulled off a mountain in Europe. They said that I got caught in an avalanche. I don't remember anything from before the rescue. When I realized my condition, I knew I couldn't be around other people, so I built a little cabin, learned to hunt, kept to myself. Seemed easiest that way. Then a couple pot growers grew nervous with me being so near their crop. Shot me – twice. I figured it was time to move on.”

“Right into the grille of that pickup,” you said.

Shane nodded as he looked around the room. “You think maybe I could clean up?”

“Yeah,” you said as you gestured to the bathroom. “Knock yourself out.” Once he was locked away in the bathroom out of earshot, you turned to the brothers. “Well, he's definitely something.”

“Yeah,” Sam said as he tucked the flask away into the inner pocket of his coat, “but maybe he's not the monster. Maybe he's the victim.”

“You thinking curse?” Dean said.

“Could be looking for a witch,” you said. “You know what? He's parked here. He's safe. Maybe we should just get another room until we can figure this out.”

“All right, but Sam’s the one going full-cavity for the hex bag. And I get you for the night.”

****

Unfortunately for Dean, he didn’t get the peaceful night he’d wanted cuddling up with his woman. At some ungodly hour, shouting woke the three of you up and you had to rush into the motel room that Shane was staying in to help him fight against some woman that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

Well, you say fighting but it was more like you, Sam and Dean got your asses kicked until Shane stepped in and took her down. Not that any of you got a chance to question her, though. She’d disappeared in a mist of black leaving behind a slight breeze before any of you could say a word. Though she had left with the ominous statement that she was now Shane’s worst enemy.

“Who the hell was that?” you cried out in shock once she was gone.

“She – she said that she knew me,” Shane said with a confused look as he pressed a hand over his heart and leaned against the wall.

“Yeah, how?” Sam growled as he slammed the motel door shut.

“I don't know, but, uh, I could have sworn that she was upset I didn't know her back.” Shane gripped his left bicep and twisted his wrist.

“This is, uh – this is a lot more than a curse, man,” Dean said. “You've got, like, some tiger blood. Where did you learn that kung fu?”

Before he could answer, Shane fell to his knees with a gasp, his grip on his left arm tightening.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Shane panted. “Yeah, I just need a minute. I've never been in a fight in my whole life.” His body jerked then as though he suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Whoa, hey, hey, pal,” Dean said as Shane jerked again. “Hey. Are you – Hey, whoa. Is he having a heart attack?”

“Do we call 911?” Sam said.

“And tell them what?” you said. “That the dead guy we stole from the morgue is alive and having a coronary?”

Shane fell to the floor, his hand spasming in his shirt over his heart as his mouth gaped open.

****

You sat on the edge of the motel bed between the brothers cross-legged (your knees resting on their thighs) as you all looked down at a dead Shane laid out on the other bed.

“I feel like I'm sitting Shiva,” Dean said. 

Sam frowned. “Well, that's not – never mind. Um...We need to think. Guys, what do we know of that has Jason Bourne fighting skills, dies a lot, and has a history with violent women?”

“I don't know,” Dean said, “you?”

You punched him lightly in the arm. “I am not violent!”

Sam and Dean shared a knowing look and smartly said nothing against your indignation. 

A knock at the door sounded and you were off the bed and at the door before either of the brother’s registered it. You pulled back the curtain slightly and peeked out the window to find a woman with medium-length, light brown hair standing on the stoop.

You pulled your gun and clicked the safety off as Sam and Dean stood and waited a distance behind you. Pressing the barrel of the gun to the back of the door you opened it. 

“May I help you?” you said, your eyes flicking down to glance at the little blonde boy she had her arm wrapped around. You hadn’t seen him through the window and felt a little thrown off.

“Agent Bonham?” she said.

“And you are?”

She pressed her lips together and pulled a rolled up newspaper from her bag. “This is gonna sound really strange, but I'm looking for a corpse that went missing today.” She unrolled the paper and showed you the feature story on the front. The headline read: Human Road-Kill Turns Zombie. It was the same article that you’d shown Dean back at the bunker. “The coroner said that you were the last one to see it. I'm Hayley.”

“Uh…” you stood looking at her a moment until you felt a warmth at your back. You knew it was Sam just because he always seemed to run hotter than Dean. You nodded your head towards him. “This is Agent Jones.”

“Why are you looking for our John Doe?” Sam said.

“Well, his name is Shane. At least, that's what I called him.” She looked down at the boy next to her. “I'm the mother of his son.”

At those words, Dean came up beside you and Sam while you discreetly tucked the gun into the back of your pants again. 

“Hey,” Dean said with a smile as he crouched down and held his hand (palm up) out to the boy. “Why don't you, uh, slap me some skin, huh?”

You felt your heart swell and your stomach grow warm. He hadn’t done much, but for a split second, you imagined the child was yours and Deans. It made you happy, that thought. To this day you think that was the moment that cemented your belief about this relationship being for life. 

Sure, the topic of a future marriage had come up several times – but nothing quite told you how ready you were to spend your life with Sam and Dean than the moment you realised you wanted to be the mother to their children. 

“He’s shy,” Hayley said when the boy turned his face into her side. She looked back down at him and ran a hand through his golden hair. “It's okay, Oliver.” When she looked back up at you, her eye caught the sight of Shane laid out on the bed.

“Oh.” Dean reached around you to try and close the door enough to block her sight. “You weren't supposed to see –”

“It's okay.” Hayley pushed through the three of you, telling her son to stay with you as she made her way over to sit by Shane. 

****

Hayley sat with Sam and Dean at the picnic table outside the motel room. She was telling them about when she met Shane during the avalanche that was his earliest memory. They’d conceived Oliver after they found their way down but after he died and came back to life she ran. 

She tried to tell them about the private investigators she’d hired but Dean couldn’t focus on her. All he could see was you.

You were swaying back and forth on the swing set next to Oliver as you talked to him. He didn’t talk much, but the fact was you’d gotten him to talk a little. Dean simply couldn’t look away as he watched you with the child. 

He marveled at your patience and gentleness with Oliver. And yet you were persistent and firm enough to coax him into a semblance of conversation. Dean loved the way you smiled at Oliver and the way you talked to him. Not as though he were a child that didn’t know anything, but like he was a sponge ready to soak up all the information you were giving him. 

Dean had barely thought of you in the context of children, but when he did it was always you having children with Sam when the two of you retired and Dean was in the ground. Those were the kinds of thoughts that he tried not to dwell on. But now that he watched you he thought – really thought – about you being a mother. Not of Sam’s child, but his. When he did he thought of his own mother. It should have been weird. What kind of guy was attracted to a woman that had the same motherly qualities as their own mother? 

But he was … and Dean didn’t see a problem with that. You were nothing like his mother, but when it came to mothering itself, you had the same techniques. And why wouldn’t Dean love that? He loved his mother dearly – she came second only to Sam – so it only made sense that he would want his children to be raised the way his mother raised him. And he was only just registering the fact that you were the perfect woman for that. 

He could only hope that his parenting techniques were nothing like his own father’s.

Why was he even thinking about that? He’d made peace years ago that he would never have a wife and children. He’d even told you that he didn’t see that in his future despite the fact he loved you like he’d never loved another woman before. But here he was, thinking about his future with you, and for the first time, he thought that maybe you had been right. Maybe you could show him the light at the end of the tunnel.

Maybe – one day – you could be the mother of his children. 

“Hayley?” Dean turned to look at Shane, slightly irritated that he’d drawn him out of his fantasy of you. 

“Hello, Shane,” Hayley said as she stood and took a few steps towards him. “Oliver, come here, honey.” Dean felt his heart swell at the sight of you holding Oliver’s hand to walk him over to Hayley. The moment you let go of the boy's hand and joined Sam and Dean, Dean pulled you into him, wrapping you up in his arms and pressing a rough kiss to the top of your head as he drew in the scent of your skin and imagined you reading to his own child.

****

Dean grinned as you blushed and hid your face in his chest. His arms came around you and he glanced up to make sure Shane and Hayley were still engrossed with Oliver on the swings. You were blushing because you were embarrassed they could see Dean being overly affectionate with you. 

Cuddling you. Kissing you longer than he should. Whispering sweet things in your ears. Normally he saved all that when you were alone with him. He didn’t even act that affectionate around Sam. But that day he’d gone insane. You didn’t know it at the time, but it was because, for a moment in his bleak existence, he’d had hope of a happy, monster free future with you. He knew that hope wouldn’t last, so he basked in it while he could and acted like the two of you were a pair of newlyweds. 

“I love making you blush,” he chuckled as he buried his nose in your hair. 

“You’re incorrigible,” you mumbled into his shirt but he didn’t miss the way you pressed yourself tighter against him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“And you’re adorable.”

Sam exited the motel room then and came down the steps from the porch, pausing briefly to give you and Dean a confused but happy smile as he saw the two of you intertwined.

“Did you find anything?” Dean said. You tried to pull away but he kept a tight hold on you, forcing you to lay your head against his chest instead to look at Sam.

Sam tried to stifle his smile and said, “Well, uh ... looks like we were right about that curse thing. From what I can tell, we’re looking at a titan.”

“A titan? What is that – like, a god?”

“More like a proto-God,” you said as you rolled your head to look up at him, “like the Gods before the Gods. They ruled over Greece before Zeus and the rest of the Olympian Gods overthrew them.”

Dean nodded and absentmindedly petted a hand over the back of your head. “Okay, so who is this guy?” 

“Best I can tell?” Sam said. “Prometheus.”

“Seriously?” you said, struggling to turn in Dean’s arms. After a grumble from Dean and a disbelieving chuckle from Sam, you finally managed to turn to look at Shane, of course, that just meant your back was plastered against Dean’s front rather than your chest. Not that you were complaining. Clingy Dean was life. 

“Didn’t he steal fire or something?” Dean said once he’d resettled his arms around you. 

“Yep,” Sam said. “He, uh, Ocean’s Eleven’d Mount Olympus and stole the flames of Olympia.”

“For what? Kicks?”

“For us, actually,” you said. “Zeus decided to revoke humanity’s ability to make fire so we couldn’t cook, couldn’t stay warm, couldn’t see in the dark.”

“Sounds like a monster’s paradise. And this guy made it right for us?”

“Yeah. And in return, Zeus decided to strap him to that mountain and make him relive death every day.”

“Damn,” Dean said softly. “Every day for how long? No wonder the guy's hard drive is fried. Sam, did you figure out who, uh, Xena-wannabe was?”

“I'm guessing Artemis,” Sam said, “Zeus' daughter. She's been known to carry around weapons like that dagger. They're nasty. They'll kill Immortals dead.”

“All right. Well, we've never battled a God curse before. Hope we can break it.”

****

Shane had no recollection of being a god and having an eagle chow down on his intestines. The moment he found out, his first instinct was to run as far away from his newfound family as possible. You could understand. Dean (being the dysfunctional family man that he was) couldn’t. 

“I'm a God. And this God and his daughter are hunting me. What chance do I have?” Shane argued, gesturing to an old drawing of his death that Sam had brought up on a mythology website.

“Okay,” Sam said as he shut the laptop. “We're gonna help you, but we need a plan first, and we can't come up with one here.”

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace safe,” you said.

The door slammed open and Hayley came rushing in with an unconscious Oliver cradled in her arms. She headed straight for the bed and placed him down on it. 

“What's wrong?” Dean said, his protectiveness coming to the surface and turning his voice into a growl.

“He fell,” Hayley said as she swept Oliver’s hair back from his face. 

“Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“No. Don't.” She turned to face Shane and realisation dawned on him. 

“He's dying, isn't he?” Shane said.

“I was going to tell you,” Hayley said, “I just wanted you to have a chance to adjust.”

“Wait a second – he has your curse?” Sam said.

“What curse?” Hayley said.

****

Once you’d gotten Shane, Hayley and Oliver back to the bunker, trying to get Hayley’s head around what was going on wasn’t easy. 

After many reiterations and a few ghostbuster comments that hurt Dean’s feelings (though he would never admit it) she still wasn’t getting it but she was on board with ending the curse and saving her son. That was all that mattered. 

And after one of Dean’s macho speeches, Shane was on board with sticking around and helping too. Summoning Zeus couldn’t be that bad, could it?

Of course, it meant a shit ton of research. About an hour’s worth in fact. Which didn’t seem long but when you were tired and hungry and wanted to cuddle it was equal to an eternity. 

“Here we go,” Dean finally said. 

You, Sam and Shane looked up at him. “What you got?” Sam asked as he leaned back in his chair and let his arm fall across the back of yours.

“Dragon penis.”

There was a moment of silence before you said, “What?”

Dean stood and took his book over to you and Sam. “Ancient Greek hunter by the name of Drakopoolos. Near as I can tell, he was a badass whose name, incidentally, is Greek—“

“Yeah, we got that,” you said as you took the book from him and laid it down on the table in front of you. “Thanks, Ace.”

Sam leaned forward, crowding his large frame around you to read the book over your shoulder, just as Hayley walked back into the room.

“Hey,” you said. “How's the, uh... Is the kid?”

“He's fine,” she said, looking down at the mess of papers and books on the table. “Oh, please, keep going.”

“Right,” Dean said, “so, uh, Drakopoolos tangled with Zeus back in the day, and the Men of Letters translated his journal.”

“The Men of Letters?” Shane said.

“It's a secret society. This is actually their lair.” Dean smiled slightly as he glanced around. “We're legacies.” When no one looked impressed, he let the smile fall from his face. “No big deal.”

“Okay,” Sam said as he looked back down at the book. “So, it says here he summoned Zeus into a trap and found out how to kill him.”

“What's that?” Shane said.

“Wood from a tree struck by lightning,” you read.

“Right,” Sam said. “So, it says we need two things for the summon – frozen energy from the hand of Zeus, and the bone of a worshipper.”

“Frozen energy – you thinking fulgurite?” Dean said.

“Well, it makes sense.”

“All right. You get on the web; see if there's any Greeks nearby that are still worshipping the Old Gods.”

“On it,” Sam said as he moved the book from his laptop and sat it in front of Hayley.

“W-what about the wood? Is that easy to find?” Shane said.

“With a little bit of luck,” you said.

“Oh. Wait – t-this journal just ends,” Hayley said as she looked up from the book.

“What do you mean?” Dean said.

“I mean, how do we know if Drako-whatever survived? How do we know Zeus didn't get to him?”

“We don't know,” you said.

“How do we know this is going to work?”

“We never know for sure,” Dean said, “but these books – they're, uh, they're pretty good.”

Hayley sighed and looked back down at the book. “So, we're hanging our lives on the writings of a dead man who...is named after genitalia.”

“It's a loose translation.”

She scoffed. “Experts,” she muttered. You didn’t have the heart to feel irritated at the slight. She was betting the life of her child after all.

“All right. Listen to this,” Sam said as he smiled down at his laptop screen. “Greek pagans two towns over. Best part? They have an obit page with cemeteries.”

****

Gathering together the materials hadn’t been as hard as you’d thought it would be. Even the fulgurite (which you’d had to steal from a one percenter last time) could be found in the local crystal shop. Which was – as Crowley would say – an embarrassment of riches. 

Finding an abandoned warehouse was easy.

Setting up the bowl with the ingredients, and the devil’s trap – easy.

Summoning Zeus – easy.

Taking down Zeus … not so easy. 

He appeared in an array of lightning and arrogance (not that you expected anything less). The moment he’d realised you were all there for Shane’s son he wasn’t ready to play ball. Of course, he said he would if you broke the trap but you and the brothers knew monsters like him well enough to know that he wouldn’t.

Dean still wasn’t sure that killing him would break the curse so he figured convincing Zeus he’d leave him there to rot for all eternity was the best way to go. Zeus didn’t bite at first – he didn’t believe Dean would let an innocent child suffer. Until Dean walked away of course. 

It hadn’t been planned but you and Sam had enough trust in Dean to follow him. You guessed Shane had the same trust, because he followed as well, leaving Hayley and Oliver behind. 

Hayley didn’t have the same trust. All it took were a few muttered taunts from Zeus and she was running towards the edge of the devil’s trap and scrubbing a break in it with her boot.

“Hayley, no!” you shouted as you turned back to her.

“Now save my son,” she said to Zeus as she went back to Oliver.

Zeus smiled and stepped out of the trap. “What do you say?” He stomped his foot once and lightning bolts shot out, knocking you, Sam, Dean and Shane to the ground hard. “Shall we try this the hard way?” 

He turned to Hayley as the four of you writhed on the floor. “Bring forth the child. Please.”

Dean reached out for the stake that had flown out of Shane’s hand when he landed. Sam had carved it up earlier. 

He looked to you and you gave a single nod that said you had his back, then the two of you were on your feet and rushing silently towards Zeus. You were about a meter away from him (and sure that you’d succeed) when suddenly the two of you flew back into a cement wall and were held in place by an invisible force.

“God dammit,” you grunted. 

Sam grunted too and you saw his body flatten out on the ground as though he were being held down as well. 

You looked to your right and saw Artemis; the woman who’d tried to kill Shane in the motel. 

Zeus turned at the commotion and smiled. “I trust you've met my daughter.”

“Hayley, don't do it,” you said in answer. 

Zeus looked back to Hayley and Oliver. “This is the son of Prometheus.” You saw Artemis and Shane share a look at those words. “And he's cursed to suffer death every day. I must admit, I could never have conceived such a horrible fate for such a beautiful child. Just goes to show, we must all leave room for happy accidents.”

“What does that mean?” Hayley said. “I don't understand.”

“Tell me, has Prometheus experienced the child's death yet?” Hayley nodded. “How did he take it? Did he hurt?” She nodded again. “Good.” With that, Zeus turned to Shane and pointed a finger at him. Shane fell to his knees gasping, his hands clawing at his throat as though he couldn’t breathe. “Imagine a thousand children all dying in unison. Only then would you understand my pain. But we can't always have what we want, so ... one will have to do.”

Hayley shook her head and cried ‘no’ but Zeus clenched his other hand into a fist and suddenly Hayley couldn’t breathe either.

You looked back to Artemis and noted that she flinched at the pain of Shane and Hayley.

With Oliver’s parents choking, Zeus knelt in front of him and stroked the side of his face. “I have a special job for you, my little friend,” Zeus said. “Artemis.”

Pressing her lips together, Artemis approached you and Dean, stopping by Sam who was still plastered to the ground. “Move,” she said. Suddenly the weight fell from you and Dean, and Sam was able to climb to his feet.

She guided the three of you out of the main room and down a wide hallway. You figured then was as good a time as any to test your theory.

“So, you know who this is, Dean, walking us to our deaths?” you said. You didn’t address Sam, mostly because he already knew who she was.

“Don't know. Don't care,” Dean said.

“It's our God, Artemis – the Goddess of Hunters.”

“Oh, that's fascinating.”

You scoffed. “See, she's who we'd pray to for courage when hunting the Gorgon or the Minotaur.” Dean gave you a hostile glare for the impromptu history lesson. When you looked   
over your shoulder at Artemis, she gave you the same look just for your impertinence. “Of course, she's not really worship worthy anymore, uh, having lost a step and all.”

She waved her hand to the side and suddenly the three of you were trapped, face-first, against the wall again. 

“The hell I have,” she snapped.

“Really, Y/N?” Dean growled, his face mashed up against the wall. “Trash-talking a God? Seriously?”

Sam gave you an incredulous look. All you did was smile. “Still at full power?” you taunted. “Really? Then why did it take you seven years to track down Prometheus?”

“He was hiding,” she said.

“Hiding from you? So the God of Hunters couldn't find a shack in Montana?” you laughed. “Maybe it's that you didn't want to find him.”

The three of you groaned as suddenly your arms were twisted up roughly behind your back.

“Good, babe, you're doing great,” Dean grunted out, his voice high with pain and sarcasm. 

“Your dad's gonna kill that kid, you know?” you said, ignoring Sam’s pleas for you to shut up.

“Don't worry,” Artemis said. “He'll come back.” She walked forward and stroked the tip of her blade across your cheek. “Unlike you.” 

“He was in love with you, you know. He told us.”

She pulled her blade back. You didn’t have to see her face to know how uncertain she looked. You’d been in her shoes before.

“You lie,” she said.

You shrugged. “Okay, sure, yeah. Believe whatever you want.”

She was silent for a moment but when Shane’s distant screams echoed through the halls she said, “What did he say to you?”

You swallowed, thankful that your hunch had been right. “This wasn't the first time he escaped that mountain, and that you let him go free as long as you could hide your little tryst from the old man.”

“The hell he said. His brain is mush,” she argued. 

“Oh, yeah? Then how did I know? What, have you spilled it to anyone? Homer? Hesiod? Herodotus? Of course not. You were afraid big daddy would find out that you fell for the person he hates most in this world. Of course, when he saw the zombie article, it kind of forced your hand, and you had to come hunt him down no matter how much it hurt. You know what? Go ahead. Kill us. And let your father slaughter that boy. Over and over again. That won't leave a mark.”

****

Zeus was standing in front of Oliver when you walked in, his hands glowing with the energy of electricity. Shane was on the ground half-way to unconsciousness. Hayley stood a little way behind her boy looking as helpless as ever.

“This has to stop, father,” Artemis said. She had a bow with an arrow notched and aimed at Zeus. You pushed the boys to the side and followed, knowing that if Zeus decided to take her out the three of you would get caught in the crossfire standing behind her. 

Zeus looked at her, the electricity dying from his hands. He didn’t look surprised, just irritated. “Stop? I'm only just getting started.”

“You've done enough,” Artemis said.

“I am doing this for us – for our kind.” He gestured wildly at Shane. “He is the reason we're here and not ruling the world. He's the reason they have forgotten all about us.”

“Let them go. All of them.

“I am your father, and you will obey me.” Without waiting for an answer, he looked back down at Oliver and let the electricity return to his hands.

“You were once my father.,” she said softly. “Now you're someone else.” She let the arrow go and it flew towards Zeus. It stopped suddenly when it buried itself into flesh. Only it wasn’t the flesh that Artemis had intended it to find. 

At the sound of the arrow releasing, Zeus grabbed Shane and used him as a shield. The arrow hit him in the middle of his torso and Zeus laughed as he whispered in his ear.

“I never get tired of watching you die,” he said. “Your boy is going on the mountain.”

Shane looked over his shoulder and gave Hayley and Oliver one last, longing look before he grabbed the arrows shaft and forced it through the back of his body until Zeus, who’d been standing with his body pressed against the back of Shane’s, was impaled too. Lightning flashed, surrounding both Zeus and Shane. After a few moments of Zeus screaming, they fell to the floor. They were both dead. 

With barely an emotion on her face, Artemis placed her bow on the ground and ran towards them. She knelt by their stacked bodies and pulled the arrow from Shane’s body. A blue light glowed within it before it died down to reveal blood. She tossed it aside as though it burned. 

Without a word she took up one of her father’s hands and one of Shane’s, she seemed about to leave until she caught sight of Hayley hugging Oliver to her and staring down at Shane’s lifeless body.

Artemis pressed her lips together, and you could have sworn you saw empathy on her face before she let go of Shane’s hand and disappeared into thin air with her father. Leaving Shane lying dead on the floor. 

****

Shane got a hunter’s funeral. He may not have been one but he showed a hunter’s courage in his last days. Oliver didn’t seem all that happy – not that he really seemed all of anything in the first place – but you were confident that the curse had been broken. 

You made sure they could get back home before you, Sam and Dean hit the road. You were glad that the three of you finally had a home to head back to and you weren’t just aimlessly driving from motel to motel. 

The smell of fast food wafted from the bags on the front seat between you and Dean. Sam passed out in the back seat. You would have gone to sleep too if it weren’t for the ache in your body. It wasn’t the kind of ache that came from being thrown around on a hunt – you would have preferred that. It was the kind of ache that meant something was wrong with your body. You knew it was because of the trials. 

You’d been confident that you could make it through but after seeing Shane die, and after experiencing the pains from the first trial, you were worried that you’d been wrong. 

“Well, here's to that crazy little wild card called love,” Dean said with a smile as he reached over and squeezed your thigh. “How did you know Artemis had the hots for Prometheus, anyway?”

“Woman’s intuition. Luck. I know what it feels like to be in love with someone and think they don’t love you back. It was written all over her face.”

Dean pressed his lips together and looked at you. He lifted a hand and tucked your hair behind your ear, glancing at the road quickly to make sure he was still on it. “Hey, we love you, okay?”

You nodded. “Of course. Yeah, I know that. And you know what else? I'm starting to think maybe I was being naive.”

He frowned, moving his hand back to the wheel and looking back at the road. “What are you talking about?”

“When I said that I could just will myself into coming out of these trials unscathed.”

He gave you an angry look.

“No, no, no. Stop with the sullen emo crap, all right? That's – you're not gonna die like Prometheus.”

“How do you know, Dean?” you argued. “Bobby, his friend Rufus, now Prometheus – you think any of them chose death? No. The life chose for them.”

“Yeah, well, you promised, okay?” he snapped. “You promised to live a long life full of breast cancer scares and colonoscopies, all right? You're not welshing on that deal, not on my watch. If you die, it's gonna be because of something normal.”

You snorted and pulled your burger from the bag. “Like a heart attack?” 

“Exactly. Yeah, eat your burger,” he growled.

****

Dean slammed his door shut with a scowl. He yanked his jacket off and threw it to the side before planting himself on the edge of his bed, his back to the door. He looked at the ceiling, desperate for any kind of help.

“Cas, you got your ears on?” he said. “Listen, you know I am not one for praying, 'cause in my book it's... it's the same as begging. But this is about Y/N, so I need you to hear me. We are going into this deal blind... and I don't know what's ahead or what it's gonna bring for Y/N. Now, she's covering pretty good, but I know that she is hurting, and this one was supposed to be on me. So, for all that we've been through, I'm asking you ...you keep a lookout for my baby, okay?” he gave a pleading look to his room, willing Cas to show up and fix everything. “Where the hell are you, man?”

He didn’t look up at the sound of his door opening. He knew it was you. Sam would have knocked but Dean had told you that you never had to. His room was yours. 

He could visualise you padding over to his bed in nothing but his flannel shirt and squeezed his heart in his chest. The bed dipped under your weight and he closed his eyes at the feel of your hands running across his back and your breath tickling the hairs on the back of his neck.

Your arms came forward to wrap around his neck, and he gripped them tightly in his large hands, marveling at how small they made your arms look. Your lips pressed against his temple and a tear fell down his cheek as his next words tore out of his throat.

“I love you.” The declaration was hoarse and filled with everything he could never get the balls to say.

He waited. Just waited for the four words he wanted to hear spill from your lips. He wanted to hear them every day for the rest of his life. And then you said it. The one thing that he needed to hear. The one thing that always kept him going. The one thing that had never seemed so beautiful and life-giving until he met you.

“I love you too.”


	25. Goodbye Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst working a case where someone is offing demons all over the country, Castiel suddenly pops up again. He's as cold and distant as ever and you, Sam and Dean know something is up when he starts acting cagey about the demons he's been killing. In this part, you and Crowley are also forced to consider whether the two of you even have a friendship anymore. Will this be the moment you and Crowley finally become enemies? And what happens when Sam and Dean finally find out you've been coughing up blood?

Dean was rummaging around in a bunch of wooden boxes he’d pulled up from the basement. They were filled with ancient and magical artifacts. He was having a hell of a time discovering all the new stuff and providing a running commentary on everything he found.

But: “Ugh. Why is he being so noisy?” you complained into Sam’s neck. 

He sat at the table in the control room on his laptop. You, being the needy little, tired munchkin you were, sat straddling his lap with your face buried in his neck and your arms thrown over his shoulders. 

You were grouchy at Dean because he’d been the one who kept you up all night with all his new ‘sex positions’. Not that you were complaining at the time, but just then you were feeling the effects. Dean’s chipper mood just made you even grouchier.

To top things off you’d been coughing up blood all morning. Thankfully, you’d managed to hide it from the bothers by carrying tissues around with everywhere. 

You felt more than heard Sam’s chuckle at your comment. “He’s excited. Let him have his moment.”

“He had his moment last night. Three times.”

“Yeah?” Sam said, his voice dropping to a huskier note. “Maybe we should try for four.”

You scoffed and leaned back to look at his face. He had the nerve to grin down at you. “When you’re the one being pounded into a mattress, then you can ask to try for four.”

“You were begging for it, remember?”

You pressed your lips together to hide your smile and gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. He chuckled and you climbed out of his lap in retaliation. 

Yeah, you’d been tired but you knew he loved it when you cuddled up to him like that. He’d told you once that it fired up his protective instincts. Made him feel like a man. 

“Hey. You two listening to me?” Dean said.

You and Sam looked over at him and you realised he’d been talking to the two of you the entire time. 

“Yeah,” you said with an encouraging smile. It wilted at the corners suddenly when you felt an ache suddenly flare up in your chest. “It's, uh ...” you cleared your throat, trying to force down the cough that was pressing against it. “Fascinating stuff. You should probably, uh, write it all down in your journal for the archives, you know?” You cleared your throat again and clenched your hand around the tissue you’d been holding.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean scoffed. “You're a lot of help.”

You took a sip of the drink Sam had by his laptop to try to prevent the coughing fit you knew was coming but you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You pressed the tissue to your mouth and began coughing. 

“Baby, you all right over there?” Dean said as Sam reached up and rubbed a hand along your back.

“Uh, yeah,” you said once it stopped. You glanced at the tissue and threw it into the trash at your feet when you saw more blood on it, careful to keep it from Sam’s view. “I'm fine. Just, uh, wrong pipe.” You took another drink from Sam’s glass to wash the taste of blood out of your mouth.

Dean looked like he might press the point … until he found porn in one of the boxes. To be precise: Voluptuous Asian Lovelies.

“Well, hello,” he said as he flipped through it and approached you and Sam at the control table. “These Men of Letters weren't so boring after all. Konnichiwa.”

He offered it to you with an innocent smile and you placated him by leaning into his shoulder and looking down at the pages. 

Sam snorted. “Dude, what is wrong with you?”

You stifled your smile when he didn’t say anything to you about it. Of course, if he had you would have pointed out that the two of you had watched porn together only a few nights before. At his request. 

“What's wrong with me?” Dean said in bewilderment. “You kidding me? This is a first edition, dude. You know what this would go for on eBay?”

You raised your brows at that and looked up at him. “Do you?”

“No.” You gave him a doubtful look. “Maybe.” A grin. “Shut up. You find anything, Sammy?” He sat sideways at the table with the magazine. The wastebasket sat at his feet and for a moment you were worried that he might see your bloody tissue but he was too engrossed with the porn to have you worrying for long.

“I did,” Sam said, “yeah -- uh, dead bodies showing up all over the Midwest last week. Benton, Indiana; Downers Grove, Illinois; uh, Novi, Michigan; and then again last night in Lincoln Springs, Missouri.”

“And how is this us?” Dean said as he looked up from the magazine.

“Because each of the victims had severe burns around their eyes, hands, and feet, puncture wounds through the backs of their hands, eyes and internal organs liquefied.”

Dean smacked his lips together. “That sounds like us.”

“Yeah. Also, no link between any of the victims. Uh, one was a real-estate agent. Another was a local historian. Woman killed last night was a teacher.”

“So, chupacabra,” you said. Sam chuckled and pulled you back down into his lap as he leaned back in his chair. You looked down at the article he’d been perusing on his laptop. “What do we got? Power tools gone rogue? Wait -- are we talking a-a Maximum Overdrive situation here?”

He laughed again at your childish excitement. “I don't know. Worth a shot, though. I'll grab my gear. We should probably leave in five.” He patted your ass to let you know that he wanted to stand up. Dean grunted in reply to Sam but ultimately his attention had been completely taken up by the magazine. 

“'Less, of course, you need some more time with Miss October, Dean,” you said. 

He grinned as he looked up at you. “Well, I gotta give you some time to rehydrate. So, yeah, make it 10.”

You rolled your eyes, barely concealing your smile as Sam chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to lead you out of the room.

****

You stood in the basement of the Morton house. The home of Ann – the teacher that had been killed the night before. Her husband, who you stood next to, insisted that she didn’t have any enemies. But she had been acting strange for the past week. When Sam asked how that’s when he took the three of you to the dim basement and showed you all the miniature village atop a table with plastic bags of dirt dangling over it. 

“She stopped sleeping,” Mr Morton said. “She stopped eating. She went out in the middle of the night, going God knows where. I tried to talk to her, but, uh ... she would just mutter to herself.”

“About what?” Sam said.

“Something... about an orchard? Finally, I just followed her one night, and she went to the playground. Over here -- the elementary school.” He pointed at a building on the replica village that appeared to be a school. “And she started digging. She would leave with these little bags full of dirt. Hung them here. All these bags represent holes that she dug in the ground.”

“Were these holes, uh -- I don't know -- 6 feet deep?” Dean said.

“No. She dug for hours. She never broke a sweat. Straight down 10, maybe 15 feet.”

“Did you notice anything else?” you said.

Mr Morton pressed his lips together as he thought a moment. “I didn't say anything to the cops 'cause I didn't want them to think I was crazy. After Ann came home, I came down here to confront her, and she was on the phone.”

“Any idea who she was talking to?” you said gently. 

“No. But I know what I saw. And it wasn't my Annie. After I called her out, her eyes... they turned black. Now, I-I know I must have imagined it. I know I did. But I-I left. I went to the bar, probably had too much to drink, and by the time I came back ... my Annie was, uh... I should have stayed. I should have protected her. I'm moving into my sister's place today. I can't be here anymore.”

“Sure,” Sam said. “Well, um, thank you very much for your time. We're all very sorry for your loss.” 

Back out on the street, you drew in a deep breath and reveled in the smell of rain on pavement.

“So, somebody's killing demons,” Dean said as the three of you walked down the front steps of Mr Morton’s yard. “Well, that is awesome. I feel like we should send a card or flowers. What kind of flower says ‘thanks for killing demons’?”

“Yeah, but who's killing demons?” Sam said as he stopped at his side of the car. “And why? And, by the way, since when does a demon possess someone, then go all Beautiful Mind and -- and start digging in the dirt? Does any of this seem right to you?”

“I like the part about killing demons. That sounds right.” 

Sam sighed as Dean climbed into the driver’s seat without another word. You gave him a reassuring smile and rubbed a hand up and down his back. A silent affirmation that you had his back on this one.

****

Wendy Rice was the next stop. It was reported that she’d been the last person to see Ann alive. Or ... demon infested at least. 

You looked to Sam when he hung up his phone. He started up the front steps towards Wendy’s house as he relayed to you and Dean the conversation he’d had. “So, real-estate guy’s wife said he was acting weird. Uh, historian’s hubby said the same – just got all obsessive and then weird. No one saw any black eyes, but still, where there’s smoke, you know. I wonder what they’re all looking for.”

“Well,” you said, “Wendy Rice here was the last person to speak with Ann, so let’s see if she can tell us.” 

Stopping at the front door, you lifted a fist and rapped it against the wood. It opened a moment later to reveal a small woman with her hair in large blue and purple curlers.

“Special Agent Lynne,” you said with a smile. “These are my partners Special Agent Tandy and Munroe. We’d like to ask you a few questions about Ann Morton.”

“Oh,” she said as she ducked her head and self-consciously played with her curlers. You couldn’t blame her. If guys as hot as Sam and Dean came to your house one day and you were only wearing old clothes and curlers, you’d feel a little self-conscious too. “Uh, of course. Please come in. I had never met her before she called the other night.

She opened the door wide and gestured for the three of you to take a seat on the couch. Of course, you got stuck squished in the middle. 

“Now, why was she calling you?” Sam said, trying his hardest to ignore you and Dean shifting around next to him. Eventually, you ended up in an uncomfortable position with your legs tightly crossed and Dean’s shoulder wedged behind you. 

Sam had all the space he could possibly want. 

“She was looking to find an original map of the city,” Wendy said after watching you and Dean struggle. 

“Did she say what for?”

Wendy played her hands along her curlers. “Well, she -- she didn't, but she did mention an -- an old orchard that had gone missing.”

“Missing?” Dean said.

Wendy gave him an enthusiastic nod. “This -- this town was wiped from the earth by one of the river's 100-year floods. It was -- it was rebuilt. But all the original records were -- were lost.” She smiled and played with her curlers again. “I'm -- I'm a Ph.D. candidate.” 

You coughed to hide your laugh as she bounded up out of her chair and rushed to grab a pink folder filled with her research. She was really laying it on thick. 

“And this -- this is my research,” she said as she sat on the edge of her coffee table and pulled a map out of the folder. “I, uh... my dissertation is -- is on the history of this town and, uh, its connection to the Underground Railroad and -- and -- and whatnot. I've been working to re-create a map for years as part of my research, and this -- this is the old Jakubiak orchard there.” She pointed to a section of the map. “I found out yesterday it's where Downey meets Bond Street.”

“Now, did Ann say why she was looking for the site of an old orchard?” Sam said.

Wendy pressed her lips together and the excitement fell from her face. “No. We -- we set a time to meet, and she never showed. Then I read about her in the paper. It's just tragic. Ann's assistant called this morning, though, asking if I still had the map.”

“Assistant?” you said as you sat forward.

Before she could answer a knock sounded at the door. 

Wendy jumped to her feet. “Oh. That's probably him. Maybe he can help.” She rushed to the door and opened it as you, Sam and Dean followed a little behind to see who it was. Instead of the one man, however, Wendy found three. “Oh,” Wendy said in confusion. “Are -- are you –“

They said nothing but they didn’t have too. Before Wendy could finish speaking, a scream erupted from her throat at the sight of their eyes turning black. Sam rushed to protect Wendy as one of them charged her. The other two came at you and Dean.

The moment you blocked the first blow from the demon you knew something was wrong. You’d been tired a lot lately but you hadn’t thought much of it. It had always been a recurring side-effect of the depression. This was different, though. You weren’t just tired, it felt like the strength had been sapped from your body and you were suddenly finding it difficult to take on a demon that you would normally decimate. 

You were on your back in under a minute with the demon on top laying into you. You had your arms up to protect your face and that was about all you could do. Every time you tried to turn the tables he overpowered you and you had to protect your face and neck again. 

The demon landed a nasty blow to your shoulder and you held your hand up to try to turn the tables again but he screamed before he ever got to land the blow. A bright light emitted from his eyes and mouth. Once it died down you got a glimpse of burnt eye sockets before he fell towards you. You rolled to the side so he fell to the carpet instead and looked up to find a steely faced Castiel staring down at you, his hand clenched in the curlers of Wendy who was kneeling at his feet with a scowl on her face. 

It wasn’t a leap to guess that one of the demons had jump frogged into her.

****

You sat on the couch in Wendy’s living room. Cas stood by the door of the kitchen where Wendy had been tied to a chair and table in a devil’s trap. Dean burst through the door with an ice pack.

“Put this on your shoulder,” he said as he tossed it to you. His voice sounded neutral but the fact that he’d tossed the ice pack to you without so much as worrying about how hurt you were let you know that he wasn’t happy with you. 

With a clench of your teeth and a cough, you threw the ice pack to the floor and said, “I'm fine.”

“The other demon escaped with the map you were talking about,” Cas said to no one in particular. “I bound the one I caught in a devil's trap. I'm gonna interrogate it now.”

“Wait a second. Cas,” Sam said as the angel turned his back to head into the kitchen. “How about you answer some questions first? Like, where the hell have you been?”

Cas froze in place but didn’t turn. You watched as his hands flexed and he contemplated on what to say.

“You heard me, didn't you?” Dean said suddenly.

You frowned at him. “You prayed to him?”

Dean didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at you. Cas sighed and took a seat in the chair across from the couch. 

“Yes, I heard you,” he said. “But that's not why I'm here. I've been hunting demons.”

“So this is you,” Sam said. “Why?”

“I've been searching for the other half of the Demon Tablet.” 

You frowned when he purposefully avoided your eyes. 

“Without us?” Dean growled.

Cas leaned forward in the chair with a look of anger. An anger that didn’t usually come so quick to him. “I've been trying to help, Dean. And in my search, I uncovered that Crowley has sent out demons to find Lucifer's crypts.”

“Lucifer had crypts?” you said.

He glanced at the ground rather than at you as he answered, “Dozens of them, apparently.”

“But why the storage wars?” Sam said. “I mean, what the hell are they all looking for?”

“They're looking for a parchment that would allow them to decipher Crowley's half of the Demon Tablet without a Prophet.”

“A demonic decoder ring?” Dean said. “In Crowley's hands? Awesome.”

“The crypts were, uh, lost over time. Only those closest to Lucifer knew their whereabouts.”

“Then how did Crowley find them?” you said.

Again, he wouldn’t look at you. “His demons have been possessing locals who may have some special knowledge.”

“That would explain the crazy room at Ann's house,” Sam said. “But how did they know where to start looking in the first place?”

“I don't know,” Cas said as he stood from the chair. “I'm hoping the strange-haired demon in the kitchen is more knowledgeable than the others I interrogated.” 

He turned again and pushed through the swinging door of the kitchen.

“Well, he puts the "ass" in "Cas," huh?” Dean said once he was gone.

“He's definitely off,” Sam said.

“Off? He hasn't been right since he got back from Purgatory. We still don't know how he got out of there.”

“I don't know, Dean. If he's so sketchy, then why were you praying to him?” you said with a hard look.

Dean flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip and avoided your eyes. You were starting to get real tired of people lying to you that day.

“You know, I can hear you both,” Cas called from the kitchen. “I am a celestial being.”

You rolled your eyes and stood to go into the kitchen. Sam and Dean followed not long after.

Wendy still had the scowl on her face as she looked up at the four of you.

“Sam and Dean Winchester,” she sneered. “Oh, the thoughts she had about you two. Mostly you, Sam. What can I say? She has a thing for smutton chops. And let’s not forget the whore of Babylon. You must be real good in the sack to get Crowley wrapped around your finger. He’s a fool for not killing you.”

You gave her a humorless smile. “I’ll be sure to let him know how you really feel.”

She lifted her lip in another sneer but screamed a second later when Cas drove an angel blade through her hand. 

“Who told you about the crypts?” he said.

“I thought angels were supposed to be the good cops,” Wendy growled as she tried to breathe through the pain. Cas drove the blade through her other hand. “Aah! Wait! Stop! Stop!! We have a hostage! It's one of Crowley's pets. She's at the Murray Hotel, down by the interstate. She knows the towns where all the crypts are buried. She saw them all back in the day.”

“And she told you about the parchment?” Sam said.

“What parchment?!” Wendy snapped.

“Hey. Hey!” Dean snapped as he slammed his hand down on the table. “Think he's the only bad cop in this room? Stop lying! We know what you're really looking for.”

“No,” she panted. “I am telling you, we're looking for –” Cas’s blade was through her heart before she ever got a chance to finish.

“Cassie!” you said as you rushed to his side. “What the hell was that?!”

He gave you a cold look that had you taking a step back. “It told us what we needed.”

“No, she didn't! You can't just –”

“I started this hunt without you because I didn't want anything to slow me down,” he snapped. “We have to get to the motel now.”

“Hold on a second.” But he’d already disappeared into thin air with nothing but the sound of rustling wings. 

“Damn it,” Dean growled as he pushed you and Sam back through the kitchen door. “Go. Go. Go.”

****

By the time you got to the Murray Hotel and found the room you were looking for, Cas was standing over a pile of dead demons. 

“Thanks for waiting,” you panted.

Cas nodded towards the bathroom door. “The hostage is in there.”

With a scowl, you headed towards the bathroom door and pushed it open. What you found wasn’t exactly what you’d been expecting. Or hoping for. Meg sat bloodied, beaten and tied up in the corner with a new blonde hair-do.

She smiled up at you. “Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?”

****

Meg sat crossed legged in the middle of the hotel bed. Cas was standing with his arms crossed in a brooding manner as he watched her. 

“So, I got to ask,” you said as you leaned back in your chair and kicked your legs up onto the end of the bed. “Um ... what's up with the hair?” Sam and Dean gave you pointed looks. “What?”

Meg hummed out a short laugh. “Aww. Thanks for noticing, Y/N. But this wasn't my idea. It was Crowley's. And it's just another reason I want to stab him in the face.”

“Wait a second,” Sam said. “You've been telling Crowley the location of Lucifer's crypts.”

“What can I say? I needed a break from the constant torture. And I did visit them all during my time with Yellow Eyes. But don't worry. I haven't exactly been giving them the Glengarry leads.”

“You mean you've been lying to them?” Cas said.

“I just get them in the ballpark. Enough time's passed and enough's changed that they bought it.”

“Why lie?” Dean said.

She gave him a confused frown. “Buy myself some time, dummy. Try to find a way to get free.”

“Wait,” Sam said, “so ... a bunch of innocent people died so you could... buy yourself some time?”

She gave him a confused frown as well. You couldn’t exactly blame her; their questions weren’t the most well thought out. “Hi. I'm Meg. I'm a demon.”

“So, what have they found?” Cas said.

“Bupkis. Every crypt's been one Al Capone's vault after another. And on top of that, someone kept picking up the trail and icing demons.” She smiled at Cas. “I'm guessing that was you, Castiel. But Crowley just keeps sending more. He's hell-bent on finding that Angel Tablet.”

“Wait a second,” you said as you let your feet drop to the ground and leaned forward. “Did you just say Angel Tablet?”

Finally, you ended up on the end of her confused frown. “You know, sometimes I really wonder why Crowley likes you so much. Yes -- Angel Tablet. Crowley found out Lucifer had it, figures it's stashed in a crypt.”

You pressed your lips together and gave Cas a hard look. He licked his lips and turned his eyes from you. “Well, this is news to me, as well. Demons I interrogated, they must have been lying about their true intentions.”

“Really?” you snapped. “'Cause I saw you Zero Dark Thirty that demon. You were more than persuasive.”

“You're both missing the point,” Meg said. “I lied to them, which means they're digging in the wrong place. But not for long. They'll be back here soon. So, who's up for fleeing?”

Sam nodded. “She's right. We need to find those crypts before they do. Meg, you're the only one who's been there.”

“We need your help,” Cas said.

Meg chuckled. “Any of you dummies got a map?”

****

After taking Meg to Wendy’s house, patching her up and showing her the village model, you managed to figure out that the nearest crypt was located under an abandoned building. Which was so cliché you could have taken a guess and found it yourself. 

“So, this is it,” Meg said as the five of you started walking towards the warehouse. “Basement?”

“All right,” Dean said, “Cas, Sam and I will head in and get our Indiana Jones on. Y/N, you stay outside with Meg.”

You frowned. “What?”

“We got this.”

“What are you talking about, Dean? I'm not letting you go in there alone.”

“He won't be alone,” Cas said.

“That's not what I mean. Meg can hang here, watch our backs.”

“Oh, what? Now you trust Meg?” Dean said.

“Hey, I got you this far,” Meg said.

“Shut up, Meg,” you and Dean said in unison.

“Dean –”

Dean stopped in his tracks and turned to you. “Y/N, I saw your bloody rag in the trash can, okay?”

“What?” Sam said as he gave you a worried look.

You gave him a reassuring one in return. “It’s nothing, Sam. I’m –”

“Stop,” Dean growled. “Just stop. Y/N, we don't know what's in there, okay? And you almost let a demon get the best of you back there.”

“I'm fine,” you said again.

“No, you're not fine,” he snapped. “You haven't been fine since the first trial. That's why I called Cas.”

“Trial?” Meg said.

“Shut up, Meg,” you and Dean said in unison again.

“Dean,” you said with an imploring look, “I'm telling you -- I'm okay.”

“No, you're not,” Cas said with a regretful glance in your direction. “Y/N ... you're damaged in ways even I can't heal. Dean's right. You should stay here and protect Meg.”

“Since when do I need protecting?” Meg said.

“Since you were held captive and tortured for over a year,” Cas said firmly. 

“Touché.”

The two of them shared a look and you wondered briefly if something was going on between the two of them.

“All right, we'll be back,” Dean said. 

You snatched the demon knife from Dean when he handed it to you. He said nothing as he and Cas walked away. And Sam only offered a worried look before following them.

****

“Wait,” Meg said as she turned from the section of wall she’d been spray-painting symbols on to look at you. “So I took how many bullets for you guys, and you didn't even look for me? Like, once?” She scoffed when you didn’t answer. “My hero. What's with all the ‘trial’ and ‘being damaged’ crap?”

You sighed and turned from your own section of wall. “Look, no disrespect, but you haven't exactly been the most, uh, trustworthy person in our lives, Meg.”

“You're not gonna tell me? Seriously? How am I not team Y/N?” You pressed your lips together and went back to spray-painting the wall. She scoffed again. “Fine. Whatever it is, you okay dying over it?” You flicked your tongue out over your bottom lip and shook your spray can. “You don't want to say, fine. Could you at least talk about you and the boys? You know, girly gossip stuff and whatever? What happened when you went to Purgatory for a year?”

You gave her a look of shock and she smiled.

“I overheard Crowley talking about it,” she said. “He was really freaking out over you being in there. Every day he was sending out demons for ancient texts to get you out. I think he knows more about that place than anyone now.”

Hearing that fed the deeply buried guilt that settled in the bottom of your heart. Crowley never said anything about it, but he must have felt a sense of betrayal at you helping to close the Gates of Hell. It’s not that you wanted to lock him away for eternity. It’s just that you wanted to lock his demons away. 

Realistically you wanted him to stop being a bad person but you knew that would never happen. You wouldn’t stop loving him either way. You just couldn’t be in his life the way he wanted you to be if he kept going down the path that he was going down. 

“You ever wonder why all the big players are so drawn to you?” Meg asked. You looked at her. “I do. ‘Cause there’s gotta be something right. On some level. You’re alright and all but it’s kinda weird that all the baddies seem to like you, even after you go all Black Widow on them.”

You smiled. “You tryna tell me you got a thing for me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up. You know what I mean.” She went silent for a moment before saying, “Although … I do feel it sometimes. Like this weird pull towards you. This weird compulsion to do what you tell me to do. It really sucks.”

“That’s, uh, real creepy, Meg. Just so you know.” 

The corner of her lips kicked up in a smirk. “You’re telling me. I gotta say … you’re a rare creature. Can’t believe the Winchesters found themselves a unicorn. You know, I kinda get why they wanna get all lovey dovey and settle down.”

You gave her a doubtful look. “Really?”

She took a deep breath. The look on her face said that she was ready to spill some deep emotion that she’d kept hidden away for a long time. Then suddenly her face hardened and she said, “We've got company.”

The two of you turned and your hand tightened around the hilt of the demon knife you’d been holding as you watched two demons charge at you with clubs. 

You knew Dean, Sam or Cas weren’t around to save your ass this time if you screwed up, so you threw all your strength into taking them down. You managed to bury the knife into the chest of one but as she fell to the ground dead you felt your head spin. You staggered as you tried to keep yourself on your feet and watched as Meg killed the second demon with an angel blade you didn’t know she had

Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“I believe they're playing my song.”

You and Meg spun at the sound of Crowley’s voice to find him standing there with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” he said as he strolled forward and eyed the protection symbols you’d managed to paint. “You really think all that was gonna keep me out forever?”

You swallowed. His expression was hard and not at all as forgiving as it normally was when he showed up to foil one of the Winchester’s plans only to find you involved in it.  
“At least long enough for Dean and Cas to get the tablet and get out,” you said.

“Castiel. So, that's who's been poking my boys -- and not in a sexy way. We need to have a serious chat, you and I. I spend an entire year chasing tails. Having demons question my loyalties behind my back … all to try and save you. Admittedly, you got out on your own before I could succeed but it was the thought that counts, right? I did more than what your boyfriend, Moose, ever thought about doing and how do you repay me? You killed my dog! Personally started the trials that would lock me away forever!” You flinched as his voice rose, feeling a lot like a scolded child that had disappointed their father. His voice had gone soft again when he said, “I’m starting to think this relationship is one sided. Not sure that I should be considering you a friend anymore, Y/N.”

You felt your heart stop at the sound of your name. He only ever called you by your pet names. 

You took a step forward and choked his name out through tears that sat in your throat. 

“Don’t,” he said. “We will have a very long, very grueling talk but right now I’m here for something else.” 

Meg glanced at you. You thought you saw a hint of sympathy on her face but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. “You gonna talk us to death or get down to it already?” she said.

“There's my whore,” Crowley said. “I'm not here for my dearly departed either. I'm here for the stone with the funny scribbles on it.”

You clenched your teeth and told yourself that Sam and Dean were the most important people to you. Not Crowley. The grave had been chipped away at for a long time coming now. You knew this moment was going to come. Now you had to face it. You clenched your hand tight around the hilt of the demon knife again and pinned Crowley with a hard look.

“That's not gonna happen,” you said.

The corner of his mouth kicked up in a smirk and he ran a tongue across his teeth as he eyed the knife in your hand. “Love it when you get all tough,” he said. “Touches me right where my bathing suit goes.”

You swallowed again and watched as he seemingly pulled an angel blade from nowhere. It dangled from the tips of his fingers for a moment as he watched you. You felt your brows furrow in distress as tears welled up in your eyes. You let yourself realise that tonight may very well be the night you and Crowley become enemies.

A look of regret crossed his features and he seemed to struggle with his own decision. You could see his jaw tick as his own brow furrowed in distress. Finally, his hand tightened around the hilt of his blade and you knew he made his decision. 

A tear fell down your cheek and you gave him a pleading look as you adjusted your fighting stance.

Meg looked at you again. This time you were certain you saw sympathy. “Go,” she said. “Save your Winchesters ... and my unicorn.” 

You drew in a deep breath and looked at Crowley. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod and you knew he was asking you to take the out. He didn’t want to fight with you any more than you did. He wanted you to run. 

So you did.

****

You found Sam and Dean in the basement. No Cas. No Angel Tablet. There was no time to waste on explanations, though. Once you told them Crowley was there the three of you made for the exit and, ultimately, the Impala.

The moment you were in the back seat, you turned to watch Meg and Crowley. He had her by the front of the shirt, and she looked bloody and beaten all over again. You felt a pang of regret and guilt at seeing her like that. And then you saw her blade bury into Crowley’s shoulder and suddenly all your worry was for him. 

Meg died that night. And after everything she’d done for you and the brothers. After her sympathy and efforts to connect with you. You could only feel relief that it wasn’t Crowley who’d died. 

On the drive back to the bunker, Dean and Sam filled you in on what happened. Castiel had beaten both their asses – almost killed Dean – all because he was being controlled by someone named Naomi. The moment he’d picked up the tablet, though, he changed. Healed the boys. Made a speech about how he had to protect the tablet from everyone – even the three of you – and disappeared with it.

“So ... what happened?” you said as you leaned against the back of the front seat. “I mean, Cas touched the tablet, and it reset him to his factory settings or something?”

“I don't know. And I don't care. All I know is that he is off the reservation with a-a heavenly WMD.” You fell back against your seat and looked out the back window as you contemplated what he said. 

“Listen, Y/N,” Sam finally said as he turned to look at you. “We can't take anymore lies -- from anyone.”

You didn’t have to ask to know that he was talking about the bloodied tissue. You nodded and glanced down at your hands. “Yeah. Um... I know. I'm sorry. I should have told you. I-I... just wanted to believe I was okay. I don't know.”

“Well, you heard what Cas said,” Dean said as he looked at you in the rearview mirror, “that that first trial hurt you in ways that even he can't heal. Baby, we need you to be honest with us from here on out.”

You nodded. “You're right. And I will be.”

Dean swallowed and looked back to the road. “Listen, I may not be able to carry the burden that comes along with these trials ... but I can carry you.”

You and Sam shared a look before giving Dean a confused frown. 

“You ... realize you kind of just quoted Lord of the Rings, right?” Sam said.

Dean rolled his eyes and slapped his hand against the wheel. “Come on, man. But it's the Rudy Hobbit, all right? Rudy Hobbit always gets a pass.” You and Sam chuckled. “Shut up.”  
Dean turned up the music to drown out the laughter. And for the first time since the trial, you felt at ease.


	26. A Taxi For Your Nightmares?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin's cracked the second trial - only this one involves you springing someone from Hell. Someone you and the Winchesters never knew made it to Hell in the first place. Crowley goes on his own mission to sabotage yours and you begin seriously doubting your own character. Were you really the good person that the Winchesters believed you to be? And if you weren't, would they still love you?

It had been good for the three of you to take some time and do a simple case. Well, you say simple. Really there’d been a hunter turning fresh vampires and sending little hunters out to kill them as practise. So, maybe not so simple in the traditional sense. But it was simple in that you had a target to kill, a victim to save (not that Krissy could ever be called a damsel in distress) and there was no fighting between you or the brothers. 

Simple.

And then you got a call from a freaked out Kevin and it was back to the hard stuff. Back to the trials. Back to Sam worrying over you and Dean getting snappy every time you even looked sick. He blamed himself, you could tell. 

Dean pounded on the metal door of Garth’s boat. “Kevin, open up!” The door swung open and there stood Kevin using a large, cast iron skillet as a weapon and looking like a zombie straight out of The Walking Dead. “Whoa! Geez. What's going on? What's with the S.O.S.?”

Dean nudged you inside as he and Sam followed, closing the door behind them. 

“It's him,” Kevin said.

Sam frowned. “It's who?”

“Crowley.”

“What about him?” Dean said.

“He's in my head.”

“He's... in your head,” Sam said.

“Do you know what that means?”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, it means we need to up your anxiety meds. Kevin, you're dreaming. Look, if Crowley knew where you were, he'd do a hell of a lot more than mess with your head.”

You elbowed him in the ribs and gave both the brother’s a dirty look. You loved them both, more than you could ever express, but sometimes they were insensitive jerks.

“Okay, it’s alright, Kevin,” you said, dropping your voice to a soothing tone and giving him a warm smile. 

He lifted the skillet higher and cried. “It’s not alright.”

“Shh, I know. It’s okay, Kevin. We believe you and we’ll take care of it. But right now let’s focus on you, okay?”

He gave you a bemused look but nodded anyway. You could tell he wasn’t used to this kind of treatment. That just made you even angrier at the Winchesters.

Keeping your voice soft and low, and your smile bright and kind, you ran your fingers through his hair the way a mother would and gently pried the skillet from his hand. 

“Are you hungry?” you said as you steered him towards the seat by the table. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Um … I – I don’t know,” he said with a frown as he plonked down onto the seat. 

“That’s alright. Just relax. I’ll make you a sandwich and get you some water and painkillers. I bet you’ve got a headache, yeah?” 

He nodded and you pressed the back of your hand to his forehead to make sure he wasn’t getting a fever. 

Satisfied that he wasn’t, you began bustling around the boat to find enough food to make him a sandwich. At one point, Dean tentatively asked if you were going to make him one too. A hard look and an elbow from Sam squashed that dream real quick.

Once you set everything down in front of Kevin, Sam pulled you back into him and wrapped his arms around the front of your shoulders.

“You’re a saint,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

You smiled up at him and let him press another kiss to your forehead before you replied, “Thanks. But I’m not making you a sandwich either.”

Sam chuckled. “I’m not Dean.”

“No. But you are hungry.”

“Busted,” Dean said with a smile. 

Kevin let out a groan of enjoyment as he chewed on a bite of his sandwich. You turned back, shocked to see that he’d already demolished the entire thing.

“Why can’t you two ever be nice like her?” Kevin mumbled. 

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam said, “All right, where's Garth?”

“On a case or – or the dentist. I don't know. I haven't heard from him,” Kevin said before downing half his glass of water.

“Okay, well, what did you want to tell us that you couldn't say on the phone?” Dean said.

Kevin wiped a hand across his mouth. “I translated the second trial from the tablet.”

Dean let out a surprised laugh. “You... crazy Prophet, you. Nice work!”

“And if Crowley's in my head, he knows.”

Sam and Dean sighed before talking over the top of each other to assure Kevin that Crowley wasn’t in his head.

“It's okay,” you said. “Just ... we know you're distressed. Just stay with us, all right? What's the second trial?”

“An innocent soul has to be rescued from Hell and delivered unto Heaven,” Kevin said.

“What?” Dean said.

“Unto. That's – that's how God talks.”

“Rescue a soul from Hell?” you said. “Like actually ... go to Hell? How – how do you get a soul unto Heaven? I mean, how do you even get a soul out of Hell?”

“We're gonna need an expert,” Dean said.

****

It felt like catching and tying up demons got easier the longer you did it. What you hadn’t expected was how easy it had become to torture them without batting an eyelash. It shouldn’t be easy for you to hurt someone like that.

Of course, Dean would say ‘Y/N, they’re demons – they deserve all the hell we can rain down on them’, but if that was the case why couldn’t you justify it to yourself?

The crossroad demon the three of you had caught and tied up screamed as Dean poured holy water over his head, causing his skin to burn. 

“I ain't got nothing,” he snapped.

“Oh?” Dean said.

“Bite me.”

“Well, then how about another owie?”

The demon screamed again as Dean splashed more holy water over him. You pressed your lips together and tried to tell yourself you were doing what had to be done. There was no shame in that. 

Was there?

“You know,” Sam said, “wouldn't it be a lot easier just to tell us how to enter Hell, uh, uninvited?”

“It's... a secret,” the demon forced out.

“We promise we won't tell anyone,” Dean said with a smirk.

The demon flinched as Sam began unscrewing his own flask of holy water. “No! Wait. I can't. It's forbidden, man. They're gonna kill me.” Without hesitation, Sam dumped more holy water over his head and he ground out a strangled sound through clenched teeth. “Please ... all right, look ... for a price, y'all can be smuggled across Hell's border.”

“By who?” Dean said.

“Rogue reapers. They got secret ways, in and out. Not just Hell – the Veil, Heaven.”

“Rogue reapers smuggling people?” Sam said.

“People, souls ...”

“So, what? They're like hell coyotes?”

“Now kill me,” he begged. You didn’t think he was crying but you could hear the sobs caught in his throat and you knew he was terrified. “Come on, man. Better death than Crowley.”

You wondered, not for the first time, how you could love someone like Crowley. Someone who did such awful things to innocents and his subjects alike. Then you reminded yourself that hating him would make you no better than him.

Because he committed heinous acts in your name. Before you even hit double digits you’d asked him to do things to your parents – the very things you were trying to convince yourself to hate him for. 

You realised he’d never held that against you. Never made you feel like a monster. In fact, he’d taken the brunt of that and let you keep pretending you were innocent when in reality you’d just had someone else do your dirty work.

That’s why you could never hate him. Because you were no better than him. But how could you love him? Well, who understood a monster better than another monster?

“That’s a good point,” Dean said to the demon. “But first … you're gonna tell us everything.”

You swallowed hard under your self-realisation. With a mumbled, half-hearted excuse, you turned on your heel and left the abandoned house.

****

“Y/N? Y/N! Wait up,” Sam called as he jogged after you.

You turned when you got to the hood of the Impala and didn’t bother pretending that you were okay.

“I’m no better than him,” you cried as you looked up at Sam.

He stopped before you and frowned. “Than who?”

“Crowley.”

“Crow – Y/N, you’re not like Crowley.” 

He reached out to touch your face but you pushed his hand away as a tear slid down your cheek. “Aren’t I?” He gave you a look of shock. “Do you know where my parents are?”

Sam shrugged. “I-I don’t know. I assume they’re dead.”

You scoffed. “They’re not just dead, Sam. They’re in hell.”

He threw his hands up in frustration. “So what? That’s where they should be.”

You shook your head, more tears falling down your face. “No, Sam. You don’t get it. I told Crowley to bury them alive. As a child, I told him how I wanted them to die. And then I gave him detailed instructions on what I wanted them to suffer every moment that they were in hell. I told him not to turn them into demons. Not to trade their souls for anything. They had to stay in there forever. Suffering.”

Sam shook his head. You could see the denial in his face. “Don’t you get it? I was a child. And I told Crowley how to kill and torture my parents. I asked Cassie first but of course, ‘angels aren’t meant for that’. But Crowley was more than willing.”

He shook his head again. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No! No … I-I … you’re not a bad person, Y/N. Okay? You wanna know how I know that? Because I love you. And – and I know you. You would never hurt an innocent person. Never. But Crowley would. Hell, he has! A million times over.”

Your bottom lip trembled. “I would never hurt an innocent person? Really?”

“Never.”

“What about Henry? What about your grandfather, huh? I knew he wasn’t going to leave that warehouse alive.”

Sam’s jaw ticked. “He made his choice. That isn’t your fault, Y/N.”

“That’s just it, Sammy. He didn’t have a choice! He thought he did, sure. But if he’d said no … I was prepared to put a gun to his head and drag him to Abaddon. I was prepared to kill him myself. Just so I could get you back. And when I held those – those LARPing guys at gunpoint to find Charlie? I was prepared to pull the trigger then too.”

Sam’s brow furrowed and he pushed a hand through his hair. You could see him struggling to justify your confessions to himself. “You think me and Dean wouldn’t do the exact same thing for you? You think we wouldn’t hurt hundreds of innocent people just to save you?”

You gave him a sad smile. “You wouldn’t do that, Sammy. Sure, you’d take down all the monsters in the world and try to move mountains … but the moment you had to hurt an innocent person you’d bail. Not even Dean would be able to do it. You just … you don’t have it in you. But I do. And that – that terrifies me, Sam.”

He took a step back from you. Shaking his head as he all but pulled his hair out in denial. “No. Y/N … you’re a good person. You’re just … you feel guilty about locking Crowley away and you hate that so … so you’re trying to justify it. How can you love a terrible person without being terrible yourself, right? Well, it happens. All the time.”

“Sam.” You moved forward and pressed a hand over his heart. He gave you a helpless look. “That’s not what this is about. You just don’t want to face the fact that … you’re in love with a monster. But … you are. I’m not the saint you think I am. And one day, I’m going to do something that none of us can justify. When that day comes, you’ll have to make a choice. So will Dean.”

****

The demon ended up telling Dean exactly what reaper could get you to hell and where you could find him. You’d volunteered to kill him once he was done spilling info. Dean was surprised but he didn’t question it, he just handed you his demon killing knife and let you take over.

You’d tried to imagine that the demon was Crowley, just to see if you really could kill him.

It didn’t work. 

The reaper ended up being just where the demon said he would be, though. That was a plus, right? He was leaning up against his taxi cab reading the newspaper.

“Ajay,” Dean said as the three of you approached him. “Need to talk to you for a sec.”

The reaper looked up in shock. “You know my name.”

Sam nodded. “And what you do. We want to do business.”

He frowned and looked you all up and down. “But you are mortal – flesh and blood.”

“But if we wanted to cross the border into Hell – “

“Visitor's pass,” Dean finished.

“No one wants to get into Hell,” Ajay said.

“But could a coyote like you do it?” Sam said.

“It's possible.” He smiled. “But I have special skills. I have overhead. It will be pricey.”

“How pricey?” you said.

He looked at you and his smile widened to a grin. You had a creepy feeling that he was a little too happy to see you. “You are resourceful. One day, you will owe me a favour.”

You frowned. “You say that like you know me.”

“Of course. You're Y/N. The woman that turned the Winchester’s into her puppy dogs. Among other things.”

“Sorry. Have we met?” Dean growled. He definitely wasn’t a fan of the ‘puppy dog’ comment. And judging by the tick in Sam’s jaw, he wasn’t either.

“I am the reaper who took Bobby Singer to Hell,” Ajay said. “But Y/N’s reputation is the biggest talk on the grapevine at the moment.”

“Why does everyone feel the need to talk about me?” you grumbled as you shifted from foot to foot.

“Wait,” Sam said. “Bobby’s in Hell? We burned his bones. Once we did that, it was over. End of story.”

“Hmmm ... not necessarily,” Ajay said.

“No, no, no,” Dean growled, “'cause, see, Bobby was on the good side of things, and good guys go to the penthouse.”

“Usually, mostly. Depends on who you know; what palms get greased. If you're on the King of Hell's no-fly list, no way you cruise the friendly skies.”

Dean looked over your head at Sam. “Crowley. Okay, let's do this. How much for three tickets down and four back?”

“Dean,” you said.

“What?”

You sighed and jerked your chin to the side. “Come here.” He followed you to the opening of a nearby alley. “What the hell are you thinking?” you said.

“You heard the guy – Bobby's in Hell. We're gonna spring him,” Dean said with a frown.

“We've gone over this, Dean. I have to do the trials solo.”

“This is Bobby we're talking about, Y/N. Now let's face it – you have not exactly been up to full speed lately, okay? We got one shot at this. We can't miss.”

“I'm not gonna miss.” You opened your jacket to show him you still had his knife tucked away in there. “I'll bring him back.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth and sighed. “Look, I just don’t want you going to Hell alone.”

You scoffed. “Would you be saying that to Sam?”

He rolled his eyes. “This has nothing to do with you being a woman, okay? I know you can hunt just fine. But you’re still my girlfriend. You’re sick – not to mention your weird little thing with Crowley. I can only imagine what he’d do if he found out you, of all people, were the one breaking into Hell.”

You dragged your bottom lip through your teeth and shook your head. “Fine. If you’re that worried about me then I’ll take Sam.”

“What?”

“I can’t trust you to do as I say, Dean. I’m taking the lead on this and Sam’s coming. That’s final.” You stomped back towards Ajay and Sam. “I'm in,” you said, “just me and Sam.”

Sam gave you and Dean a look of shock but chose the wise path and didn’t argue.

Ajay nodded. “Follow me.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Dean said as he came up beside you with a hard look. “How does this ... work?”

“Not to fret,” Ajay said. “They'll be back in exactly 24 hours’ time. Return for them then.” 

Without another word, the reaper led you and Sam into the alley you’d just been standing in front of. Dean stayed behind, anxiously looking at his watch. The further into the alley you got, the thicker the graffiti on the walls became. Until, right at the end, Ajay stopped in front of a door that had been painted in blue on the back wall.

“Take my hand,” he said as he held both his hands out. 

You and Sam took one each as Sam said, “And it gets creepier.”

Ajay said nothing and continued staring straight ahead. After a few seconds, the walls began shaking. The paint on the walls began liquefying and streaming towards the door which became encased in a bright, white light. The light spread out until it completely encompassed the three of you. You felt yourself be sucked in and then there was nothing.

****

Your heart dropped the moment you landed in the grey forests of Purgatory. The foliage crunched under your feet and you hated that the sound still frightened and excited you all at the same time.

“So, this is Hell?” Sam said with a bemused look.

Before Ajay got a chance to answer, you charged him – kicking his feet out from under him and sending him to the ground. He grunted when you dropped down to one knee on your chest. 

Your fist landed across his jaw and cheekbones several times as you screamed, “Why did you bring me back here? Take me back! Take me back, damn it!”

“Y/N!” Sam shouted. 

His arm wrapped around your waist and he hurled you off the ground, your feet and fists flailing as you fought to lunge at the reaper again. 

The reaper stumbled back to his feet with a scowl as Sam calmed you. “You need to relax, Y/N. You won’t be in Purgatory for long,’ he said. You gave him a snarl and yanked yourself from Sam’s grip. 

“Purgatory?” Sam snapped. “What do you mean? This isn't what we paid for. We booked the Hell tour.”

“This is Hell-adjacent,” Ajay said. “Been down this highway many times before. Follow the stream to where three trees meet as one. Where they meet, there are rocks. Between the rocks is the portal.”

“A portal?”

“A back door to Hell. Trust me – it'll work.”

“Wait,” Sam said, “so you're not coming with us?”

Ajay laughed. “Don't be ridiculous. Smuggling a mortal across the border is risky enough. But gate-crashing a Winchester and his girlfriend into Hell seriously blows. No. I'll be back in 24 hours, precisely. Be here. Oh, and, uh … it’s a good thing you brought her. It’s not an easy place.”

He chuckled as he turned away and Sam had to pull you back when you tried to go after him again.

“You know,” Sam said once Ajay was gone with a flash of light, “I always kinda thought you missed being here. Didn’t think you’d want back out so badly.”

You turned to him, scowl still in place. “I miss this place like an abuse survivor misses their violent partner.”

Without another word, you pushed past him and began heading in the direction Ajay told you to. 

****

Crowley sat in the back of a dirty taxi cab in an alley. Something he never thought he’d have to do. He was waiting on Ajay, the next person down on his ‘who to kill’ list. He brushed a fleck of dust off his shoulder and muttered under his breath as he thought about the reason he was in this mess in the first place.

You.

But then, you seemed to be at the centre of everything lately. He heard the whispers from his men, about how he was wrapped around your finger. Some were even so bold to suggest that you were running Hell now. Which was absurd, of course. 

Sure he’d been a little more lenient with his demons of late. But that could easily be contributed to the fact that all of his demons would have to die if he began killing off the ones that spread whispers about him. 

That was absurd too. He was more lenient because of you. There, he finally admitted it to himself. You made him soft. There had always been something about you, even when you were a child, that just drew him to you. He was like a moth to your flame. Castiel felt the same way, he could tell just by the way the angel looked at you.

Even the Winchesters could feel it.

Hell, every bloody thing with an ounce of power could feel it. The more powerful a monster was, the more drawn to you they became.

That made you very dangerous. 

He briefly wondered what a meeting between you and Lucifer would be like. He shivered at the thought. Lucifer would kill you the moment he felt any kind of pull. He wasn’t a man that liked being tied down to anything.

The driver’s side door of the taxi opened and Ajay slid in with a pizza in hand. Crowley had the manners to wait until he was comfortable before announcing his presence.

“Hello, Ajay. It's been a while since we chatted – too long.”

Crowley smirked as he watched the reaper freeze in place. He never got tired of watching people fear him. 

Ajay looked at Crowley in the rear view mirror and held up his pizza with a nervous smile. “Pizza? Extra anchovies.”

Crowley hated anchovies. For a brief moment, he realised you were the only person in the world he’d ever told that too. The thought of you, conversely, turned his train of thought straight back to the problem at hand. “Anything you want to get off your chest? An update?”

“Um ... no. No, not really,” Ajay said as he lowered his plate of pizza and glanced down at it.

Crowley knew he was lying, of course. “As you may recall, patience isn't one of my virtues. Well, I don't have any virtues, but if I did, I'm certain that patience wouldn't be one. So, sure there's nothing weighing on you? Nothing, say, about making a deal with the Winchesters and my sweet little kitten?”

‘Sweet’ you certainly weren’t. But he liked calling you that around people just to see their reactions when they actually did meet you. Not to mention, he could only imagine the extent of your irritation when you find out he’d been calling you his sweet little kitten. Crowley enjoyed pissing you off. 

“Sir, I know better than to attempt that,” Ajay said with a swallow.

“My operative saw you leaving with Sam Winchester and Y/N.”

“Oh!” Ajay cried with a nervous laugh. “Oh, Sam Winchester. And – and your pet.”

“She’s not my pet,” Crowley growled. That was one thing he didn’t want people thinking about you. It would do worse than just piss you off. 

Ajay stumbled over his words in apology before saying, “But, yes, that's, uh ... a possibility. Me leaving with them, I mean.”

Crowley ran a tongue over his teeth. “You're trying my non-patience.”

Ajay put his hands up in defence. “Sir, I was just doing what I do. As you are more than aware, I do occasionally … moonlight as a freelancer.”

Crowley leaned forward and snapped, “You do not freelance with them. What did they want?’

Ajay swallowed again and glanced at Crowley in the rear view mirror. “Well, uh, actually, it's, uh, starting to come back. They may have wanted to get into Hell.”

“My Hell? Why would they want to do that?”

Ajay shook his head vigorously. “I don't know. I swear. My job – I don't ask questions.”

“And what time is Mr. Winchester and my sweet kitten due back from Hell?”

“Uh, I'm picking him up in ...” Ajay looked down at his watch, “well, now 17 hours.”

Crowley nodded as he contemplated what to do next. “I see. Anything else?”

Once again, Alay shook his head vigorously. “No. I swear.”

“Hmm.” Without further thought, Crowley pulled the angel blade from where he kept it tucked up in his sleeve and drove it through the back of the seat and straight through Ajay’s chest. “That's one fare you won't be collecting.”

Sam could stay in hell for all Crowley cared. But you … he still had to have his long talk with you. And what better place to do it than in Hell with no Winchesters to bother him.

****

Surprisingly, you and Sam were only attacked by one measly vamp on your way to the portal. Which, in reality, turned out to be more of a rabbit hole than anything. After going through it, you and Sam appeared in a dark corridor. He helped pull you out of the opening that the two of you had come through before taking off his watch and placing it on a high ledge to mark the exit. 

Hell was pretty much what you expected it to be. Dark corridors tinged with red, and screaming and crying in the distance. You expected more fire, though. 

The two of you turned down a corridor to find bodies chained up against the walls. Some were moving. Some weren’t. One woman you passed was bloodied and burnt almost all over. She smiled when she saw the two of you. 

“I'm ... innocent,” she said. “Help me.”

Sam grimaced as he walked past. You didn’t. In fact, you didn’t feel any remorse. 

You passed several other souls. One old man that thought you were someone named Eddie. And another young woman that thought Sam was some sort of angel that she’d been praying to. It didn’t take as long as you thought it would to find Bobby’s cell.

He had his back to you when you looked in there. He was standing so still – in his ball cap and leather jacket – that the two of you weren’t sure what to expect when you walked into the cell. There were tally’s scratched into the walls. 

“Bobby?” Sam said. 

Bobby turned. He looked haggard. And then he punched Sam in the face and suddenly you didn’t feel so sorry for him.

“Get the hell out of here, you black-eyed son of a bitch,” Bobby yelled.

“What?” Sam said in confusion as he wiped a hand over his mouth to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. “Bobby, it's Sam.”

Bobby scoffed. “Yeah, and I'm Elvis. Move your ass!”

You stepped forward. “Bobby –”

“Get!”

“It's me!” Sam said. “Okay, damn it. If it's not Sam ... then how do I know all about you and Tori Spelling?”

“What?” you and Bobby said in unison.

“You're a fan. Yeah. Or – or, uh... Okay. What about your free pedicure at the Mall of America? You made Dean swear to never tell another living soul how it changed your life.”

“Oh man,” you laughed. “You’re lucky Dean didn’t tell me about that.”

Bobby rolled his eyes at you and pulled Sam in for a tight hug. “I'm sorry, Sam, but you're the 200th Sam I've seen today. That's how they screw with me. Just endless Sams and Deans all wearing the same black eyes. Wait a minute. What the hell are you doing here? Please don't tell me it's what I think it is.”

“No, no, no, Bobby, we're good,” Sam said. “We’re ... we’re here to get you. You don't belong here, Bobby. And we're getting you out.”

That was all the convincing he needed. He was following after you in seconds as you and Sam navigated your way back through the halls. Getting out of Hell was easy. With only a few demon deaths – and one kind of Sam death – the three of you were back in Purgatory and on your way to the meeting spot. 

“So, how many more of these trials after this?” Bobby said when you finished explaining to him what was going on. 

“Just one,” you said as you stepped over a fallen log. “Don't know what it is, though – not yet. Kevin's still translating.”

“Well, you saw back there in Hell, I ain't got a lot of rust. Just feels so good to be back in action again. Might be handy if you had me around to help.”

You and Sam stopped and shared a look. “Bobby,” Sam sighed, “We'd – We'd love that, believe me. The thing is, for this trial to be completed, your soul has to enter Heaven. And besides, if that weren't the case, we burned your bones, Bobby. There's nothing to tie your spirit to earth.”

Bobby gave the two of you a solemn nod. “Yeah. Yeah, well ... you know, I always figured that'd be the end of it ... you know, just a Hunter's funeral. Zip. Nothing. And I was okay with that. Imagine my surprise.”

“Well,” you said, “I guess if there has to be an eternity, I'd pick Heaven over Hell.”

“Yeah,” Bobby scoffed as the three of you started on your way again. “'Cause there's nothing screwy going on up there.”

“I wish I made the rules.”

You stopped in the centre of the meeting spot and looked around. Sam joined you as Bobby kept talking about coming out of retirement. Finally, when he didn’t get much of a reply from either of you, he asked what was wrong.

“This is it. This is the place. I'm sure of it,” Sam said. 

“Where your cabbie's supposed to meet you?” Bobby said.

“Yeah. At exactly... now.”

“So, he's running a little late.”

“No,” you said, “see, that's the thing. He was very specific, Bobby, like, to the minute.”

“And if he doesn't show?”

You swallowed. The dread of staying in Purgatory for another year burned in your stomach. You weren’t sure that you could remember where the portal was. Sam and Dean always told you, you had a terrible sense of direction. 

“We got no way out,” you said.

“What?” Sam said. “How’d you get out last time?” 

“Through a portal. But …”

“But?”

“I went there once and this is a big place, Sammy. It could take us months to find it again. Maybe another year.”

Bobby sighed and looked around for a moment before looking back to you. “So, you and Dean spent a year in this place?”

“Running and fighting, all day, every day,” you said. 

He looked at Sam. “Must have been hell on you not being able to get them out all that time.” You and Sam avoided eye contact. You’d both patched things up but it was still a touchy subject. “You did try?” Bobby said, noticing the sudden tension.

“Look, Bobby, Dean and I had an agreement, okay?” Sam said.

Bobby frowned. “Did you have that agreement with Y/N too?” Sam looked away. “I didn’t think so. And I know that agreement. I taught you that agreement. That's a non-agreement. I get the feeling a lot must have happened while I was gone.”

You sighed and turned away from the two of them to go sit on a nearby log. Bobby called your name before you could make it and suddenly you felt yourself be taken to the ground as hot breath hit your ear. After a moment of you struggling, you felt the vampire get pulled off of you. You rolled to your back, prepared to thank Bobby or Sam, only to find they were nowhere near you and had just finished taking down their own vampires.

You looked to your left and saw Benny.

Benny, in all his fanged glory, ripping the throat out of the vampire that had tried to kill you. He was saving your ass. Again. He was never going to let you forget it. That alone trumped your surprise at his presence. 

You stumbled to your feet with a grin just as he stood and retracted his fangs. He wiped his sleeve over his mouth before giving you a wink and a grin of his own. You could already feel butterflies twisting in your stomach at the thought of experiencing all his southern charm again. 

You laughed and launched yourself at him. He caught you easily around the waist and squeezed you to him with a laugh of his own. 

“It’s so good to see you again, sweetheart,” he drawled. 

Tears instantly fell down your face at the sound of his voice. You blocked out the commotion going on behind you between Sam and Bobby, and just focused on the scent of his skin and the feel of his arms around you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed out.

“Hey, darlin’. Shh, none of that now.” He let you slide back to your feet and pulled away just enough to wipe the tears from your eyes. “What happened to my tough little princess? Are you turning into a sobbing mess now? You know you were cryin’ the last time we talked too.”

You punched him in the shoulder and laughed through your tears when he chuckled.

You sniffed. “I missed you so much.”

He nodded. “I know. Me too.”

“But – but what are you doing here?”

He pressed his lips together. “Dean sent me here.”

“Dean? Not my Dean,” Bobby snapped.

“He's a buddy of Dean's, Bobby,” Sam said. “And Y/N’s”

“A buddy?”

“A good buddy,” Benny said with a smirk. 

You elbowed him lightly in the ribs. He smiled down at you and threw an arm over your shoulders. You knew, without looking at him, that Sam would be pissed. You should have pulled away from Benny, you knew you should have, but it had been so long since you’d seen him. And your last phone call with him had broken your heart. 

Besides, he wasn’t doing anything bad. Yet. You dreaded the moment when he started flirting. Dean always let him get away with it because he knew Benny didn’t see you like that. But Sam didn’t know him the way Dean did. 

In fact, if Sam got out of Purgatory without at least punching Benny once, you’d be surprised. 

****

Bobby grumbled but, surprisingly, Sam barely said a word the entire way to the portal. Benny put it on thick too, anything he could to piss Sam off he did it. Flirting with you seemed to piss him off the most but even then Sam said nothing.

You were proud of him. You were also gonna make it up to him so many times the moment you got him back to the bunker.

It wasn’t until the four of you got to the portal that Sam broke his silence. “Hey, Benny, listen,” he said as you all stopped in another clearing, “I know you saved Y/N’s and my brother's ass a few times down here, and I respect that.”

“Yeah, and now I'm trying to save yours,” Benny said. “You know, I'm a disgrace to my own people.” He chuckled at that thought as he looked around. “Yeah, this is the spot.”

“The seam that gets us back up top?” Bobby said. Benny nodded and Bobby pointed to the top of a nearby hill where a blue, flickering portal sat. “Is that it?”

Benny nodded. “Yeah, that's it.”

You turned to Bobby and pulled up your sleeve. “All right, Bobby, here it goes. When we get to earth and I release you, it's an express straight to heaven. No time for goodbyes.”

Bobby gave you and Sam a fond smile. “Already said goodbye to you two once, Y/N. Didn't seem to take. No reason to think I won't see you again somewhere down the road. But if they give me a rocking chair up there, I'm raising hell.”

You laughed and handed Bobby the demon knife so he could cut open his forearm before doing the same thing to himself. 

“Conjuncti sumus, unum sumus,” you chanted. Then you gripped Bobby’s bleeding forearm in your own and watched as Bobby turned into a stream of red and white light that shot straight into your arm through the cut. “Okay, Benny,” you said as you rolled up your other sleeve and turned to the vampire. 

You held the knife out to him but he didn’t take it. You frowned and a sad look enveloped his eyes.

“Benny,” you said.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His voice was soft when he said it but it left a ringing in your ears that would haunt you for weeks to come.

“No,” you pleaded. “You – you can’t. Benny. Please. I know it was tough but – but I won’t leave you again. I promise. I’ll help you.”

He pressed his lips together and pulled you into a hug. The tears fell again and a sob caught in your throat. “No. I’m so sorry. I know I let you down but I promise I’ll do better,” you cried.

“Shh, darlin’,” he said as he stroked a hand over your hair. “It’s not your fault. I’m just not cut out for that life.”

“Benny!” 

The three of you turned at the sound of the new voice. Three vampires emerged from the forest and you could tell they weren’t friends of Benny’s.

“Time for you to go, sweetheart,” Benny said as he turned towards them.

“No! I am not leaving you. Not again,” you snapped.

“Sam.”

“I got it,” Sam said.

Next thing you knew you were being hurled off your feet for the second time that day and carried towards the portal. You kicked and screamed and cried. Clawing at Sam to get away as you watched Benny take on three vamps by himself. 

At one point you almost took Sam’s eye out with the knife you were still holding until he yanked it out of your hand and dragged you through the portal. It closed right behind you and the last thing you saw was Benny falling to the ground with two vamps on top of him.

****

The white light flashed and you collapsed to your knees screaming the moment you were back on solid ground. Sam stepped back and watched on helplessly as you sobbed and screamed out for Benny. Not even the sound of Dean shouting your name could bring you out of your mourning. 

“Benny didn’t make it,” you heard Sam tell Dean. Hearing it said aloud brought on a fresh wave of tears and sobbing. 

A pair of arms engulfed you and you all but through yourself into Dean’s embrace. He tried his best to soothe you, but it took a good ten minutes before the crying stopped and you were back on your feet. By that time, you felt awful and numb to the world.

“Okay,” Dean said gently. “Let's put that old man where he belongs. Then we’ll take you home and put you to bed.”

You sniffed and nodded, pulling up the sleeve of your jacket and taking the demon knife back from Sam. You chanted the incantation as you sliced open your arm again. You held your arm up and a blue light began rising from the wound and up to the sky.

It stopped high up as a black cloud began twisting around it.

“What the hell?” Dean said.

“Hello, boys. Kitten.” The three of you turned to find Crowley standing close by with his hands in his pockets. He looked up at Bobby’s soul. “Bobby Singer – I'd know you anywhere.”

“Let him go, Crowley,” Dean snapped. “He doesn't belong in Hell.”

“He does if I say he does. He's inflicted untold damage on my kind. From where I sit, actually, Hell's too good for him.” Without another word, Sam and Dean rushed Crowley. You stayed behind. “Really?” With a flick of his index finger, Crowley had the two of them pinned to two trees behind you. 

Without another glance towards them, he approached you with a smirk. It fell from his face the moment he got close enough to see your red and puffy one. 

“What the bloody hell did you morons do to her?” Crowley snapped. 

“Nothing,” you said before either of the boys could say anything. “Just been a rough day is all.”

Crowley sighed and rubbed his knuckle against your cheek as though wiping away a tear, though you knew you’d run out of tears to cry. “I’m sorry, kitten. I hate to worsen your mood but I can’t allow you to do this.”

You looked up at him. “So you’re just going to keep torturing Bobby? For an eternity?”

Crowley opened his mouth, almost at a loss for words as he stuttered, “Well, I – I can’t … I know you’re up to something. And I know it has something to do with closing the Gates of Hell. I know you’re fond of the old kook but if he has something to do with putting me away forever then I can’t let him go.”

You opened your mouth to say something but stopped when you caught sight of a woman standing not too far away from where you and Crowley stood. You looked up at Bobby’s soul next and watched as he began breaking free of the black cloud.

“Oh, come on!” Crowley said as he watched the same thing unfold.

“Let me see if I've interpreted the situation correctly,” the woman said. “Y/N and the Winchesters have freed an innocent from Hell, to which you are wrongfully trying to return it.”  
“Siding with them, Naomi?” Crowley said. “You don't know those three. Before they're done, we'll both be locked away.”

Naomi shrugged. “I'm just hoping they lock you away, dear. The rest I'll figure out.”

“Bureaucrat,” Crowley spat. “You're fighting outside your weight class.”

Her face twisted into a snarl. “Don't call me a bureaucrat.” She extended her hand towards him, her eyes shining with power. Crowley was gone before she could do anything else.

Sam and Dean fell to the ground and Naomi extended her hand again, this time towards the sky, and freed Bobby completely, sending him on his way to heaven. 

She turned to Dean then and said, “I told you, you can trust me.” Then she was gone.

“Wait,” you said. “Is that Naomi as in tried-to-brainwash-Cassie Naomi? What the hell, Dean?”

“I'll tell you later,” Dean said as he and Sam climbed to their feet. “Let's get this trial done.”

You swallowed and gave him a nod as you pulled the incantation from your pocket and read it. 

It hurt twice as bad as the last time. You grabbed your right hand and fell to your knees, crying out in agony. Your blood felt like it was boiling and you watched as your veins lit up like fire under your skin.

“Y/N? What? What?! Talk to me! What?!” Dean shouted. 

He gripped your shoulder and shook when you didn’t answer him and you held a hand up as the pain started lessening. 

“It's okay!” you said. “It's okay. I'm fine. It's done.” You looked up at him. “It's done.”

****

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Dean said. 

He and Sam were in the front seat of the Impala driving back towards the bunker. You’d passed out the moment your head hit the back seat. Dean didn’t know if it was because of the trial or Benny but he’d never seen you look so worn out. 

Sam shrugged. “Right now? I don’t know. But … she’s tough, you know? I think she’ll make it.”

Dean shook his head. “I just … I don’t know if I can keep watching her go through this kind of pain. I mean, the trial is one thing but Benny … that would of crushed her.”

Sam nodded and glanced down at his hands. “Yeah. Yeah, it did. I had to carry her out or she wouldn’t have left him.”

Silence fell between them for a moment before Dean said, “You know I – I buried Benny... but I didn't burn his bones. After he said he'd try to get you and Y/N out of there, it just didn't seem right. I know you got no use for him, but –”

“No, no, no. You know what? I get it. I do. He's a ... he's a little different from what I thought. So, go ahead and leave the door open if you want.”

“Really?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I mean, he flirts with Y/N a lot but …”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, he does that. He means nothing by it. They’re kinda like brother and sister, you know? In a weird way. The best of friends.” He sighed. “Next few weeks are gonna be hell for her.”

“Yeah. No doubt. You know she, uh … she doesn’t think she’s a good person.”

“What?” Dean exclaimed as he gave his brother a bewildered look. “What do you mean? She’s the best person we know. A damn saint if you ask me.”

“Is she?” Sam said. Dean gave him a hard look. “Look, don’t get me wrong, I love that woman like I have never loved anyone before, I mean … wow. But, maybe we put her on a pedestal. And maybe she feels pressured by that, you know?”

“No I don’t know, Sammy,” Dean growled. “Enlighten me, please. But I swear, you say one bad thing about her right now and I will punch you in your face.”

Sam coughed to cover up the laugh that bubbled in his throat. “I’m not trying to say anything bad about her, Dean. I will never think that she’s a bad person. But think about it. She’s done some things that we would never let anyone else get away with doing.”

Dean rolled his eyes and slapped his hand against the steering wheel. “Yeah, but she had good reasons. Sure, she’s a little hot headed sometimes. But it’s … you know, it’s hot. Besides, she’d never hurt anybody who didn’t deserve it.”

“Maybe not. But she’s wanted to. She’s been prepared to hurt innocent people before. She told me herself, Dean. What if one day she does do that? What are we gonna do then?”

Dean frowned at him again but it was desperate, and Sam knew he’d gotten him thinking about it. “Shut up, man. You’re talking crazy. Y/N’s a damn queen and I’m gonna keep treating her like that whether you like it or not. But if you hurt her with all this crazy talk I’m gonna put a bullet in your knee.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head but said nothing more on the subject. He didn’t want to believe it any more than Dean but what you’d told him outside that house really got to Sam. It would take him a long time to realise why the conversation had scared him, though. And it was because even if you went off the rails and hurt someone – even if Sam and Dean couldn’t justify your actions anymore – Sam would still love you. And he would stay with you no matter what. So would Dean. And that terrified him just as much as you terrified yourself. 

Dean reached over and slapped a hand against Sam’s chest, making him jump. “Hey. Did you hear me?” Dean said. 

“N-no. Sorry. Just thinking.”

Dean flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip but didn’t bother digging anymore. “I said, we should go check in with Prophet boy and see where he stashed that tablet.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

Only Kevin wasn’t where he was supposed to be. He and his notes were gone, just like Benny, just like the tablet. And soon Crowley would be gone too. You weren’t sure if there was a limit to the loss that you could handle but it wasn’t something you wanted to test.


	27. Nightmare Inception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An email from Charlie sends you, Sam and Dean on the hunt for a djinn. Only this time Charlie has to face her biggest fears. Just as Sam and Dean face their own and you finally realise just how sick you really are.

Dean dumped a six pack and a bag of groceries on one of the tables in the library. At the sound of your shuffling feet, he turned with a smile.

“Hey, baby – whoa.” He froze in place and took in your dishevelled appearance. Dean knew there would never be a moment in his life when he looked at you and didn’t think ‘beautiful’. But he had to admit, that day you were looking a little rough around the edges. 

“You look … nice.”

“Ugh,” you said as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and tried to tame your hair back into place. “Shut up. You’re a terrible liar. Where’s, Sam?”

A heavy hand landed on your waist from behind and Sam pressed a kiss to your temple. “Right here.”

He walked past you and placed his own bag of groceries on the table next to Dean’s. You shuffled forward a few more steps, feeling like death itself, as Dean took a seat in front of the open laptop and Sam leaned against the end of the table. 

“Uh, what time did I lay down?” you said as you rubbed a hand over your tired face. You were glad the constant aching from the first trial had gone away but it had been replaced with being constantly dizzy and tired. 

“You took a siesta around noon. Yesterday,” Dean said as he pulled a beer from his six pack. He tossed it towards you but your vision tilted as he did and it ended up smashed to pieces on the floor behind you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I, uh...”

“That's why we don't have nice things, Y/N.”

You drew in a deep breath to try and reorientate yourself but the moment you took a step you stumbled. Sam reached out automatically but let his hand hang in the air when you held a hand up to say you were alright.

“You okay?” he asked anyway. His brow furrowed in concern but you couldn’t bring yourself to give him a reassuring smile. 

You nodded and made it the last few steps to lean against the table. “Yeah, I'm, I'm fine, I just …” Pain sparked through your head and you rubbed at your temple and squeezed your eyes shut. 

You’d hoped that the headaches would go away with the body aches but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. You thought about going back to bed and sleeping it off but you already felt sluggish and gross from too much sleep. Maybe fresh air and some walking would do you some good. 

“Uh, you know what,” you said as Dean looked up at you with lost eyes, “I'm gonna get dressed. We should go find Kevin.”

Sam had to catch you when you stumbled again. He kept his hands on your shoulders to keep you upright as Dean stood from his seat to face you. 

“Hey, hey, easy, sleeping beauty,” Dean said. “Look, baby, I've hacked into every security camera around Garth's houseboat, Kevin's hometown, where Mrs Tran lived ...”

“And?” you said.

He licked his lips and glanced away briefly. “Well, nothing so far.”

You swayed forward a little, only Sam hands on your shoulders kept you from falling into his brother. “Dean, we have to find him,” you said.

“I know,” Dean said. His voice was low and soft, like you were a child that he was trying to placate. You hated it and loved it all at the same time. “I know, but Garth is out looking for him, we got a hunter APB out on Kevin, we will do what we can from here while you get better.”

You raised your brows at him. “I'm fine. Dean, I can still go out there, I can still hunt.”

Sam scoffed above your head and Dean’s eyes sparkled with the laugh he was trying to hold in. “Really?” he said.

****

“This is stupid,” you grumbled as Dean aimed and took fire at one of the targets in the shooting gallery.

Satisfied with the balance and accuracy, he handed the gun to you and said, “Alright. You hit that target, we'll talk about getting you back out there.”

You rolled your eyes. “No problem.”

You took aim with one hand. The room tilted and your arm wavered. Shit. You used your other hand to steady the gun. The trigger was pulled twice and both bullets ended up in the concrete wall miles from where they were supposed to be. 

Your heart sank to your shoes. Resting the gun back on the bench, you avoided Dean’s glance. Your eyes closed when his fingers brushed against your temple to tuck your hair back behind your ear.

“Baby, this second trial hit you a lot harder than that first one. I don't know whether it was just more intense or what,” he said. 

You shrugged as his hand dropped down to rub along your back. “It was a little stronger but mostly it felt the same. Till the next day.”

Dean nodded. “We're gonna sit tight. Keep an eye out until you get better.”

You sighed and turned to look up at him. The heat radiated from his body and you knew he’d let you bury yourself beneath his layers of clothing if that’s what you wanted.

“Dean, I …”

“I know, baby,” he soothed as he cupped your jaw and stoked a thumb across your cheek. “I know you don’t wanna be cooped up but you don’t get a say in this right now. Not while you’re like this. You’re lucky Sam’s keeping me in line else you’d be locked up in a bubble right now.”

You pressed your lips together and looked towards the target you’d missed. That was the thing with Dean. His alpha male attitude was hot but if you wanted him than you had to take the patriarchal bad with the gentlemanly good. But, like he said, at least you had Sam to stop him from going caveman. 

With a hand wrapped around the back of your neck he pulled you into him and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m only trying to keep you safe,” he whispered.

****

You were sitting on the table in the library, your head pressed against Sam’s chest as he stroked your hair and enabled your moping, when the email from Charlie came in. She had a case for the three of you but she’d only been able to track your location within a twenty-mile radius.

Dean had no doubt been happy to find out that no one could track the three of you while you were in the bunker. You were just happy to finally have another girl on the team for a bit. Maybe she could talk sense into Dean.

The wide grin on your face was a hard one to stifle when she climbed out of her beat-up, yellow car and said, “What's up, bitches?”

You fell back against the trunk of the Impala with a soft grunt after she gave you a tight hug. Sam and Dean looked to you in concern but ultimately did nothing, having seen worse.

“You okay, Y/N?” she asked with a frown.

You nodded and mustered up a reassuring smile. “Yeah, no, I'm – I'm good, yeah. What're you doing in Kansas?”

She glanced down at the ground and then back up at you. “Uh... a comic convention. In Topeka.”

You frowned. “In the middle of the week?”

“Girl's gotta get her collectibles.” Sam scoffed but you weren’t buying it. “So, are you gonna invite me into your dungeon, or do I gotta answer your "questions three" first?”

Dean smiled but you could see that he wasn’t buying her act either.

“Allow us,” Sam said. “Let us introduce you to the Men of Letters.”

****

“Holy awesome,” Charlie said with a smile as she sat at one of the tables in the library and looked around the room. Sam had just finished giving her the low down on everything that had happened since she’d seen you last. “Too bad they got wiped out, though that is what they get for the sexist name.”

“I hear that,” you said as you walked past and bumped her fist. Sam smiled but Dean gave you a mock glare and pulled you down to his lap. 

“Well, anyway,” Sam said, “that's our skinny. How about you?”

Charlie swallowed and glanced away again. “Um, made a deal with the yesteryear weirdos, we're gonna team up to stomp the shadow orcs.” You and Dean shared a look. “You guys   
are still coming to the mid-year jubilee, right?”

Dean smiled. “Wouldn't miss it.”

“So what about this case you brought us?” you said as you swiped Dean’s beer from the table and took a swig.

She perked up at the change in topic and pulled her tablet from her backpack, flipping open the cover and tapping away at the screen. “When I was in Topeka, I saw this pop up over the wire. Tom Blake, a checkout clerk in Salina, who went missing on his way home from work. He was found dead yesterday, his insides liquefied. Locals have no idea what happened, they tried to bury the report so people wouldn't freak, but I flagged it. I have eliminated the following things that go bump in the night...”

“Wait a second,” Sam said. “When did you become such an expert?”

“Well, after you guys left, I dug into all things monsters. I'm a wee bit obsessive. If "wee bit" means completely.” Dean gave Sam a look and you knew he wasn’t happy with Charlie’s new hobby. “I also found this series of books, by a Carver Edlund?” You choked on the mouthful of beer you had. “Did those books really happen?”

Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair as Dean tried to help you through your coughing fit. 

“Wow,” Charlie said. “That is some meta madness.” She looked to Dean and offered an encouraging smile. “Thanks for saving the world and stuff.” She gave Sam a sympathetic look. “Sorry you have zero luck with the ladies.”

Sam spread his hands out and gave her an incredulous look as you laughed. “Wha – Charlie, I’m literally dating Y/N right now.”

Charlie scoffed. “Yeah. And she’s sitting in your brother’s lap.”

Sam gave you and Dean a hard look when Dean began laughing too. “We need to find every single copy of those books and burn them,” he said.

“They're online now, so good luck with that.”

“Awesome,” Dean said. He patted your hip and you stood to let him up before taking his seat. “Well, you two crazy kids deal with that, me and Sam will go see if there's anything to this, uh, case of yours.”

You frowned and went to stand up again. “I'm coming with you.” Your knees buckled and the chair slid backwards. You caught yourself on the table but Charlie had to jump from her seat and catch you around the waist before you could finish the descent to the floor.

“Whoa, are you sure you're okay?” she said. Your irritation flared up and you almost snapped at her – that phrase was becoming a broken record you had to listen to everyday – but you took a deep breath, reminded yourself that it was Charlie, not the brother’s, and simply told her ‘yes’. 

“No,” Dean growled. “You're taking a knee as long as you're off your game.”

“I'll go with you,” Charlie said. “Unlike you two, I’ll actually give her hourly updates and call when she’s getting restless.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, do you wanna date her?”

“Sure.”

You stifled your smile as Dean’s head snapped back in shock. Then his face filled with anger and you knew that, despite the fact Charlie was joking, he was jealous. 

“Look,” Sam said as he caught Dean’s change in mood, “no disrespect, okay, but there's a big difference between reading about hunting and actually hunting.”

Charlie cocked a brow and simply said, “I'm coming with.”

Dean scoffed and, in his jealous state, made her go through the same gun test that he put you through. Two perfect headshots – better than Dean. 

****

After Charlie’s failed attempts at getting Dean in on a montage in the clothing store, she settled on a dull pant suit that made her feel itchy. Now she knew what you’d always been complaining about. 

“Ugh, I can’t believe you make Y/N wear these,” she grumbled as she tugged at the bottom of the suit jacket. 

“She got over it. You will too,” Dean said as he began sliding Charlie’s fake FBI ID into a leather slip. 

She sighed and started trying to close the gaps in her fringe. “Also, trials? That's never good.”

“Yeah, and our prophet's in the wind.”

“What about, uh, Castiel? He seems helpful and dreamy.”

Dean drew in a deep breath and blew it back out as he slapped the new FBI badge against the palm of his hand. “He's MIA with a tablet of his own, doing God knows what. I mean, to be honest this whole thing is ... I mean, Y/N's a tough son of a bitch but ... Cas is saying that these trials are messing with her in ways that even he can't heal.”

Charlie turned and gave him a sympathetic smile. “If it's any consolation, having read your history, there is pretty much nothing the Winchesters can't do if they work together. And to be honest, it seems like Y/N has brought the two of you closer than you’ve ever been before. I don’t think it’s even possible for her to get taken down without you two going down with her. And I swear, nothing can kill you two.”

Dean scoffed. “Thanks.”

She nodded and let out a nervous chuckle as she scratched at the back of her head. “Must be nice, having people to always watch your back.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out as he stood from the couch he’d been sinking into. “No brothers or sisters?”

She smiled. “Actually, I have two. Their names are XBOX and PS3.”

Dean, barely listening, caved again. He’d told himself that he wouldn’t constantly call you to make sure you were alright. You were a big girl; you could handle yourself. Besides, you had Sam there with you. But, so far, he’d called you every half hour. Charlie had called him clingy but he preferred to think of it as concerned. Maybe a little protective.

Okay, yeah, he was definitely clingy. But so what? You were his girl. There’d been plenty of times that he’d tried to make you stay behind on a case when he was worried about you, and on the rare occasion that you actually listened to him, a part of Dean always regretted it. 

It was the right thing to do, leaving you at the bunker. Dean had no doubt about that. But that didn’t stop him from missing you. You were his partner in crime. So was Sam. Charlie was awesome but it just didn’t feel right not having you and Sam. 

With a sigh he pulled his phone out to call you only to find that he had no reception and had to use Charlie’s. 

****

You leaned heavily against the bench in the shooting gallery. It felt like gravity was trying to force you to the ground but you were determined to stay upright. Just like you were determined to hit the target that still had Charlie’s bullet holes in it. 

You’d managed to give Sam the slip. He was being sweet, which was nice, but he was also being super helpful and clingy and affectionate, which was also nice. Except that it was a sham. Sam was often like that on a weekly, if not daily, basis. But that day it felt forced. He was putting it on to try and keep you in the bunker. 

Well, it wasn’t going to work. The moment you hit the target you were out of that bunker and on your way to join Dean. 

You rolled your eyes as your phone rang for the hundredth time that day. “Yeah?” you said in answer.

Even over the phone Dean’s gruff voice could send shivers down your spine. “Hey, it's me. You okay?”

You sighed. “Yes, Dean. I'm still fine. Look, I can hunt, I—“

“Well, then let the healing continue. I'll check in with you later.”

You let out a sound of frustration as he hung up on you. Slamming your phone down the bench, you picked up the gun and fired off two shots without thinking about it. 

They went straight through the paper. Closer to the target but definitely not hitting it. 

You shrugged. “Close enough.” At least you weren’t hitting concrete.

****

The moment you got into town you caught wind of another body a couple of kids had found and poked. Dean had too, only he was unfortunate enough to work it out after you did.

He was on his way to the crime scene, in fact, when he got a call from Sam. “What do you mean she’s gone?” Dean growled into the phone.

“Look, I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam said. “I’ve been trying all day to keep her here but she gave me the slip. If Y/N doesn’t want to do something she’s not gonna do it. We both know that.”

Dean sighed. “Fine, thanks anyway. She’s probably headed here. I’ll call you if I see her.”

“Yeah. I’ll do the same.”

“What the hell are you grinning at?” Dean snapped when he hung up and looked at Charlie.

Her smile didn’t waver. “Oh nothing, just sounds like you got a girlfriend that’s stubborn enough to rival you.”

Dean was pissed but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride well up in his chest. You were a stubborn, tough as nails hunter. And you were his girl. 

His very sick girl. 

Jesus, what the hell were you doing out of the bunker?

“Maybe you should go first this time,” Charlie said as Dean opened his door in a huff. 

“Nuh-uh. Back on the horse, kiddo, come on.”

Dean’s sour mood became worse when one of the police officers told him that you were there. The moment he saw you he couldn’t tell if you looked sicker or if he was just   
playing it up in his mind because he was so damn worried about you.

You turned and held your hands out to the side when you saw him. “What took you guys so long?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean growled when he stopped in front of you. 

You frowned. “Working the case, same as you.” You jerked your thumb at the bloated, split open body. “Jake Hill, librarian. Went missing yesterday, no relation to the other vic. Coroner already swooped in and scooped up what was left of him.”

“Yeah, we met her,” Dean said, “bit of a stickler. Well, if there's not a body, there's nothing else to see here, so why don't you head on home?”

You cocked a brow at him. “Still have to talk to the witnesses.”

“Well, we can handle that. Charlie, why don't you go talk to the witnesses.”

She looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. “But I don't wanna miss the —“

“Charlie.” She walked off with a huff. For a split second, Dean wished you’d listened to him like that and just do as you were told. But he wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if you’d been that obedient. The fact that you were a pain in his ass was just a part of your charm. “Look, baby, I know you're frustrated, but you're also sick.”

“I'm not leaving, Dean,” you said.

He drew in a deep breath to calm himself. The last thing he wanted to do was start a fight in the middle of a crime scene. “I know you wanna help, I do, but—“

“Dean, you cannot take care of the both of us. I need to be out here. Play through the pain, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, don't quote me to me.”

Charlie came back to the two of you just as you were about to argue more. 

“So the boys said they noticed something on the body's arm before it covered them in years of future therapy,” she said. “Said it looked like a blue handprint.”

Dean looked down at you. “Sounds like something you should read about. In a book. At home.”

You glared. “I'm not leaving until we find out whatever is doing this.”

He shook his head and said “Whatever” before stalking off. 

You let out a sound of frustration. “I hate it when he just walks away like that.”

“You guys fight like an old married couple,” Charlie said.

You sighed a rubbed a hand over your eyes as the throbbing in your head escalated again.

“Does this mean we don't have to break into the coroner's office anymore?” she said.

You pulled your hand away from your face and looked at her. “That's a good idea.”

She sighed and turned as the Impala’s engine flared up and Dean began reversing. “Is he leaving? He's leaving!”

“That's alright,” you said as you put a hand on her shoulder. “I stole your car. I think I know where he's going. Come on.”

She nodded. “Cool. Wait, you stole my car?” She turned to you and you gave her a sheepish smile.

****

You stood in the hallway of the hospital by the morgue with Charlie. You’d been waiting for Dean for a good ten minutes. He jumped when he finally came through the front doors with a flashlight and saw the two of you standing there. 

You shook your head. “What took you so long?”

He gave you an indignant look. “I stopped for gas.” You raised your brows, not believing him for a second. “Shut up. Body's in here.” He pushed past you and Charlie to head into the morgue but stopped short when a pair of headlights shone through the window at the other end of the hall.

“The hell?” you said with a frown. It was the middle of the night. No one was supposed to be there but you three.

Before either you or Dean could make a move, Charlie ran down the hall and around the corner, shaking her hand at Dean as he called after her.

You and Dean stood in suspense for one long minute before Charlie poked her head back around the corner. “It's the coroner,” she said. “I got this.”

Before Dean could protest, you pushed him into the morgue and closed the door behind the two of you. 

He rounded on you as soon as he was inside. “I called Sam,” he growled. “He’s pissed and waiting to chew your ass out when you get home.”

“Mm, kinky.” He gave you a hard look and you rolled your eyes. “Please. I can handle Sam.”

You pushed past him and headed for the files. Dean was left feeling torn between being angry at you and being completely turned on by what you just said. 

With a roll of his eyes and a soft growl, he decided instead to focus on the job at hand. Only when he opened up the chamber the body was supposed to be in, it wasn’t there.

“The hell?” he said. “It's empty.”

You mimicked his look of confusion and began flipping through the case file. “Uh... they burned the bodies.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, they think it's some kinda like, uh, outbreak scenario. Even got the CDC to sign off on it.”

Dean nodded and shut the chamber back up. “These folks run a tight ship.”

“Yeah, it’s no joke,” you mumbled as you placed the case file down on one of the metal tables and pulled out your phone. 

Dean followed and shined his light on the file. “So does this mean we need to take Silkwood showers now, or is this still a case?”

“Yeah, something about that mark the kid saw rings a bell,” you said as you snapped a photo of the file. “Probably have to check the lore, or maybe your dad's journal.”

****

Dean had been right. Sam was ready to give you a verbal lashing the moment the three of you got back to the bunker. Dean had even stood by the table with a smug smile as he watched. All you’d had to do was give Sam a winning smile, say “Hey, handsome” then pull him down for a kiss he’d never forget. 

Sam’s anger was immediately gone and he said nothing about you giving him the slip. 

As you walked past Dean you smiled at his dumbfounded look and whispered, “Told you I could handle Sammy.”

He watched as you sashayed over to sit by Charlie in the library. “That was so hot,” he mumbled.

“Huh?” Sam said.

Dean snapped to attention and plastered a frown on his face as he looked at his brother. “I said you’re too soft on her. Where’s the discipline?”

Sam scoffed. “Dean, she’s my girlfriend not my kid. And don’t act like you’re not going soft on her either. If you were mad and she kissed you like that … guarantee you’d forget what you were pissed about.”

Sam went over to join you and Charlie. Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath as he followed, mostly because he knew Sam was right. 

“Leviathan,” you said as you pulled a book from the shelf and sat adjacent to Charlie. 

She looked down at the ‘monster app’ on her tablet. “No, they consume their prey.”

“Well, maybe the vics were Leviathan,” Sam said as he sat beside you and threw his arm across the back of your chair.

Charlie shook her head. “No black goo on either scene in the coroner reports.”

You shrugged. “Dragons, they uh—“

“No signs of burns on the vics,” she said as she crossed them off her iPad. 

You glared at the electronic device. “I hate that thing.”

“I want one,” Sam said.

“Wait a second,” Dean said as he read through a page of his dad’s journal and sat down across from you. “Djinn.”

Charlie frowned. “Djinn vics don't get liquefied.”

“No no no, not regular Djinn. According to this, there's a bastard offshoot. Uh, their eyes light up blue, they pass as humans, all that regular jazz, except these leave their victims with jelly-like insides, and supposedly, when they poison their victims, they leave behind a blue handprint.”

He slammed his hand down on the journal and gave Charlie a smug smile. 

She sighed and glared at the journal. “I hate that thing. And I want one.”

“So these things die like regular Djinn?” Sam said.

“Silver blade dipped in lamb's blood, yeah,” Dean said. “And now we just gotta find the asshat.”

Charlie nodded. “Alright, well, breakthrough means snack time to me, and I wanna just stretch my legs. I will pick us up some grub, and unlike you, Sam, I will not forget the pie.”

The moment she left, Dean leaned on the table towards you and Sam. “She seem a little off to you?”

“Since the second she got here,” you said. 

****

Two hours passed and Charlie still wasn’t back. She wasn’t taking calls or answering texts either. You paced the control room, dialling her phone for the last time. And for the last time you got her voicemail.

“Charlie, it's Y/N. Again. Call us. Okay?” 

Just as you hung up, a coughing fit began tearing through your throat. Dean entered as you doubled over. Noticing his presence, you tried to swallow down the next cough and slid into the chair at the control table.

You gave him a smile. “Hey.”

He shook his head and didn’t bother returning his smile. It happened every time you stumbled or coughed. He’d get pissed at you. You didn’t take it to heart. You knew he was more pissed at the situation and just worried about you. He was also angry that you kept trying to brush it off and act like you didn’t really feel that bad. 

“Any word from Charlie?” he said, his voice gruff with concern. 

You shook your head. “Did Sam find anything?”

“Yeah, actually,” Sam said as he entered the room. “There was no comic convention in Topeka. I don't know why... I mean, why would she lie to us?”

Dean pulled his phone out and said, “One way to find out.”

“What are you doing?” you said.

“When I called you from her phone, I turned on her GPS.”

****

The GPS led the three of you to an apartment you didn’t know Charlie had. The room was a mess. Furniture was flipped over and ornaments were broken. A quick survey of the room showed it was empty, though. In the middle was a table and chair that hadn’t been disturbed. On top there was Charlie’s laptop along with a box of fake IDs. 

“What the hell is this place?” Dean said.

“Whatever it is, it belongs to Charlie,” Sam said as he rifled through her fake IDs. “Or some variation of her.”

“Who the hell is she, Jason Bourne?” you said. “Okay, so we got no forced entry, so either it was somebody that she knew, or ...”

“Djinn.”

Dean found Charlie’s mobile on a dresser by the door. “Here's all our missed calls. You got anything on her laptop?”

Sam took a seat in front of it and said. “Yeah, um, she's been making donations through her aliases to Shawnee County General here in Topeka.”

“What, a charity?” you said.

“A patient. Gertrude Middleton.”

“We need answers,” Dean said. “I'll take Gertrude, you two keep Djinn-digging.” 

He kissed you before he left. It wasn’t just a peck on the lips or cheek, though. It was brief but held more desperation and passion than the situation should have called for. He even squeezed you too him as he did it.

“What was that for?” you chuckled when he pulled back. He didn’t answer you. Didn’t even look at you. Just left the apartment without a word. 

You stood staring after him, dumbfounded.

“He’s scared,” Sam said. You turned to find him looking up at you. A solemn look in his eyes. “For you, I mean. We both are.”

He turned back to the laptop and that was the end of the conversation. A conversation you hadn’t even expected. A conversation that wasn’t even a real conversation. More a desperate reminder that you were sick – maybe dying – and the people who loved you hated that they couldn’t do anything about it. 

****

On the way back to the bunker, Dean told you and Sam about Charlie’s mum. Gertrude. She’d been in a car accident when Charlie was 12 and had been in a coma ever since. A bunch of people had been making anonymous donations over the years to keep her hooked up to the machine. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Charlie and her many aliases were those kind strangers. 

“So no chance of a recovery, huh,” Sam said as the three of you walked into the library. 

“No,” Dean said. “No, Gertrude seemed like a cool mom, too. Kind, strong, taken from her family way too young — remind you of anybody?” 

He hadn’t sounded upset but your hand slipped under his shirt and onto the skin of his back at the mention of Dean’s mother anyway. He didn’t talk about her much and yet you knew how much she had meant to him. How much her absence hurt him. You knew, if given the opportunity, you’d do anything to get that woman back. Dean needed his mum back. And Sam needed to know what it was like to have a mother. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Dean tugged you down into his lap. You hadn’t even noticed that he and Sam had sat down. 

“Did you find anything?” Dean said as he pushed your hair back from your face and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. No doubt your spacing out had concerned him – it wasn’t normally a side effect of the trials. 

You gave him a reassuring smile and pulled his hand down to kiss the palm of it. Satisfied with the nonverbal answer, he looked at Sam.

“I think so,” Sam said as he looked down at his laptop. “A John Doe from nine years ago. The original coroner wanted the body sent to the CDC, but the coroner's new assistant "accidentally" ordered the body to be burned.”

“New assistant?” Dean said.

“Jennifer O'Brien.”

“The woman that froze you and Charlie out back at the morgue?” you said as you glanced at Dean. He nodded. “Coroner's a hell of a cover for hiding kills.”

“Now get this,” Sam said. “CDC never heard from Jennifer this time either. She faked the reports, burned the bodies to cover her tracks.”

“So why does she get sloppy again after nine years, start leaving the bodies where they can be found?” Dean said.

“Well, let's go ask her. According to this, she owns two pieces of property in town, one two-bedroom house about ten minutes from here, and an abandoned shipping warehouse.”  
You pressed your lips together in a tight-lipped smile. “Course she does.”

****

You hated abandoned warehouses. You really didn’t express that enough. They always looked like they were falling apart and leaking. Or like the location a post-apocalyptic movie producer would shoot in.

They were just plain creepy.

And, of course, the Winchesters being the Winchesters, they wanted to split up. About five minutes in, you heard Dean’s voice echo through the warehouse. By the sounds of it he’d found Charlie but no Djinn. You turned to double back, thinking maybe you’d missed something. A hidden nook. 

There she was. The djinn/coroner – right behind you. See? Creepy. 

You tried to attack her but the moment you began putting strain on your body it fought against you. So did she. She overpowered you in seconds, something you weren’t proud of. You were on the ground, leaning against a chain link fence as she stalked towards you with a smile. She began rolling up her sleeve and her eyes glowed blue. You tried to push yourself back to your feet but your legs failed you. You were panting already and your body screamed at you like you’d just spent a good ten minutes fighting for your life. Now you couldn’t actually fight for your life. 

You even felt your mind start to give in to the prospect of dying there on the dirty ground. That scared you more than anything because never, not even as a child, had you ever entertained the thought of giving up like that. You’d always known that if you died it would be on your own terms and by your own hand. That was the only death you’d ever accepted. Not this.

Her body jerked suddenly and the blue in her eyes died. She dropped to the ground dead with Dean standing behind her holding a silver knife.

“You okay?” he said as he moved forward to help you up. You waited for the hard look and scathing comment but you got nothing. 

You didn’t have the energy to lie, so you asked him where Charlie was instead. 

She was in the middle of the warehouse – they always were – and she was under the djinn’s spell. The antidote that Sam injected into her had no effect. The only conclusion was that different djinn may need a different antidote. 

Dean pressed a hand to Charlie’s forehead and looked to Sam in desperation. “She's burning up, man, we're not letting her turn to jello.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he thought. “Okay, okay, uh. Okay, Djinn poison puts your brain in something like a feedback loop while your blood boils, right?”

“Right.”

“Um, if the antidote didn't break the loop, then maybe we can find a way to break it from the inside. I mean, if Djinn take you to your happy place, your happy place is like a dream —“

“African dream root,” you said. 

****

Dean volunteered to go in. You hadn’t even put up a fight. For once, you agreed with him. You were not in a condition to hunt just then. If you couldn’t take down a middle aged woman (you’d taken down a vamp and angel on your own for Christ’s sake) than what hope did you have inside of Charlie’s dream.

Dean cringed as he downed the jar of the world’s worst cocktail. “Ugh. Okay. Alright, I'm gonna need to go sleep fast, so, punch me.” You frowned and Sam gave him an odd look. “Look, Sammy, I know you don't want to, okay—“

Sam punched him. He staggered back but remained conscious as Sam shook his hand in pain. Dean shook his head and gave Sam a smug smile. “Well, you're a little off your game there, cause I was— that was pretty—“

Sam punched him again. You jumped and Dean slumped down into the unoccupied chair unconscious. 

You raised your brows and looked up at Sam. “Something I should know about?” 

He shrugged and shook his head. “We’re in love with the same woman. There’s always gonna be some tension.”

“Really?” you said with a smile as you folded your arms. “So it has nothing to do with that time that me and him had sex so loud an entire LARPing community heard us? Including you? ‘Cause you’ve always been kinda salty about that.”

Sam avoided your eyes and shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. We should … uh, secure the perimeter … or something.”

You chuckled as he hurried away from you. Sam and Dean really were the kings of holding grudges. 

You started pacing in a circle around Charlie and Dean, trying to get the blood flowing through your body. It seemed the longer you sat around and did nothing the worse you felt. Conversely, the more exercise you got the more coughing fits you had. 

You were just coming out of one and checking you weren’t coughing up blood when you heard a noise in the distance. You thought it might be Sam but as you did he sent you a text saying he was bringing the car around. The Impala was on the opposite side of the warehouse that the sound had come from.

Fearing that the djinn wasn’t completely dead, you drew your knife and headed to the room that her body was in. 

She was definitely dead. 

With a sigh, you looked around, hoping to see a squirrel or something. You turned at the sound of light steps behind you, and saw a kid – early teens – standing there staring at you. He looked scared but he looked angry too. In your experience, anger always outweighed fear. 

He looked down at the dead djinn and back up at you, tears in his eyes. “You killed my mom.”

His eyes lit up blue and he stormed towards you. You held your knife at the ready but, much like his mother, he overpowered you when your body failed. The moment you hit the ground you knew you had to catch him off guard. He had to make a mistake. 

People always made mistakes when they were angry. Djinn weren’t any different. 

You laughed as you climbed back to your feet and stumbled. “So, it wasn't your mom who messed up, it was you.”

He landed a punch to your jaw. It wasn’t the hardest you’d felt by any means, but when your body was barely holding itself together, a strong wind could take you down. 

You hit the ground with a grunt and the kid turned to look down at his mother. He began talking about how he screwed up and shouldn’t have played with his food. That was your opportunity.

With your last remaining strength, you pushed yourself back to your feet and drove the knife straight into his back. 

He dropped to the floor, as dead as his mother, just as Sam came running around the corner. 

“Y/N!” 

You looked up and tried to smile but a dizzy spell overtook you. Sam had to catch you before you fell to the ground. 

“I heard all the commotion,” he said. “Are you okay?”

You leaned against him, panting, and nodded. “Yeah. I’m – I’m fine. That just … it really took it out of me.”

“Alright, arms around my neck,” he said.

You frowned, not really understanding what he wanted, but you did as you were told anyway. He scooped you up into his arms and you began grumbling as your face fell into the crook of his neck.

“I know. I know. You’re not a damsel in distress,” he said as he carried you back out to Charlie and Dean. 

He managed to find you another chair and set you down on it. 

It took ten minutes for Dean to finally wake up. Ten excruciating minutes. Charlie came to not long after. Tears streamed down her face and she clung to Dean as he apologised to her. 

You never did find out what happened to her. And you never asked. It wasn’t Dean’s place to say and if Charlie ever felt like talking about it than she would. 

****

You handed Charlie her bag as the four of you left the bunker. She bumped her shoulder against yours as you walked a little way down the road with her, Sam and Dean trailing behind. “So ... thanks for saving our bacon.”

You laughed. “Any time, your Highness.”

She stopped and turned to you. The heat of Sam and Dean at your back didn’t escape your notice. “You know you're gonna be okay, right?” she said. “I mean, you don’t have a bunch of books that show all your boss battles and tough customer demeanour. But I’ve seen it for myself. Plus, Dean always talks about how badass you are when we’re alone.”

“Charlie,” Dean snapped as you laughed. 

Charlie smiled, “The point is, if anyone can make it through the trials, Y/N, it’s you. Besides, the Winchesters have your back. And any woman that can handle those two can sure as hell go through … well, hell.”

You grinned and pulled her into a tight hug as you whispered your thanks. “You know,” you said as you held her back with your hands on her shoulders, “you really should come back and dig through our archives. You are definitely a Woman of Letters.”

She grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

With another long hug, you retreated to the bunker, dragging Sam with you to give Charlie and Dean a moment. 

Sam lounged back in one of the chairs in the library, obviously relieved to finally be back home and safe without a case. He tried to goad you into relaxing with him but you couldn’t. Not once had Dean given you a verbal lashing since he first saw you at the crime scene. He’d held his tongue even when you’d almost gotten yourself killed. You knew it was because Charlie was around. Which meant the moment he came inside he was gonna start yelling with a little dash of the silent treatment afterwards. 

So you paced. And paced. And paced until he finally came inside and walked straight up to you.

Immediately you tried to throw water on the flames. “Okay, look, you were right, I-I should've laid low, I— I know, I should've hung back, but I'm glad I was able to—“

He kissed you. Really kissed you. Like, the kind of kiss that he only saved when the two of you were alone in bed. He’d never kissed you like that in front of anyone, not even Sam (and he’d done some pretty questionable things to you in front of Sam). But this … this was intimate and sacred. Something just for you and Dean to experience. His hands cupped your face and his tongue pushed into your mouth. Your fingers twisted in his jacket and your toes curled. 

Just as you realised that you really shouldn’t be doing this in front of Sam, Dean pulled back and buried his face in your neck as he pulled you in to a tight hug that lifted you from your feet.

“What d'you say we find our prophet?” he whispered. 

He placed you back on your feet a moment later and left the room. 

You turned to Sam, completely dumbfounded for the second time since the case started. He gave you a soft smile. “I told you, he’s scared.”


	28. The Great Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working under the assumption that Kevin is dead, in your mourning, half-drunken state, you manage to hustle Sam and Dean out to Colorado on a wild goose chase that didn't turn out to be a goose after all.

You were huddled underneath a blanket in the control room going over some documents when Dean entered carrying a tray of food. 

“Alright, here we go,” he said with a smile. “John Winchester's famous cure-all kitchen sink stew. Enough cayenne pepper in there to burn your lips off, just like my dad used to make.”

You leaned back and sighed in irritation as he placed the tray down on top of the documents. You gave him a small smile of thanks, guessing that it must have looked more like a grimace, as you pushed the tray away. 

His smile faltered but he picked up the spoon and said, “Yeah, we did the whole airplane thing with the spoon.” 

You ignored him. Your head was killing you and all you wanted was quiet. Sam understood that, you didn’t know why Dean didn’t. 

The smile fell from his face and he tossed the spoon back onto the tray. “When was the last time you ate?”

You drew in a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over your face. “I- I don't...”

“Days, Y/N,” he growled. “It's been three days.”

You frowned when he pulled a thermometer from his back pocket. “When'd you get that?”

“When you started throwing off heat waves.” He lifted it towards your mouth as though you were a child. 

That was it. You’d had it. Normally Dean babying you was adorable. Like when he tucked you into bed or carried you around on your bad days. But you couldn’t take it 24/7. At the end of the day you were still a grown woman. 

You threw the blanket aside and shot to your feet. The chair slid back and you stumbled as you said, “Enough, Dean. Please.”

He gave you a hard look. “The bloody handkerchiefs, the fever, the shaky legs... this is not good.”

“Well, I'm not good. And I'm not going to be good until we can start moving again. Until I can start the third trial.”

“Trial?” Dean snapped. “I wouldn't let you start a moped.” You rolled your eyes and he tossed the thermometer onto the tray. 

He opened his mouth to argue again, a scowl marring his features. Then he stopped. Just stopped and looked at you. He took in your washed out skin and your tired eyes and wondered why he was fighting with you. 

You were sick and barely holding it together. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to cuddle with you because you’d been so restless at night with fevers. Even though he didn’t want to entertain the thought that you might not make it through, he couldn’t help but think maybe his time with you was limited now. And if that was the case, why was he spending what could be his last weeks with you fighting. 

He sighed and leaned back against the table. You took a hold of his hand when he held it out to you and let him draw you into his body. His arms came around you as you buried your face in his chest. 

His voice was low and soothing as he said, “We're on the rails with this thing, okay, and the only way out of it is through it, believe me, I know. And you know how bad I wanna slam the door on all those sons of bitches. But you gotta let me take care of you, baby. You gotta let me help you get your strength back.”

Your fingers twisted in the front of his shirt. “This isn't a cold. Or a fever, or whatever it is you're supposed to feed. This is part of it all. Those first two trials... they're not just things I did. They're doing something to me. They're changing me, Dean.”

He squeezed you tighter and pressed his lips against your head, not entirely sure what to say to that. Thankfully his phone buzzed in his pocket, giving him a few more minutes to be blissfully unaware of just how sick you were. 

“It’s Kevin,” he said when he saw the email notification.

“Finally,” you sighed as you pulled away from Dean.

He headed up the steps and into the library towards the laptop just as Sam came into the room. You gave him a small smile and leaned into him when his arm went around you. 

“How you feeling?” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Like crap. Dean’s been treating me like a five-year-old with the flu,” you said. 

“He’s just –”

“I know.”

“Hey, guys. Come look at this,” Dean called out. You and Sam went to stand by his side and look down at the laptop. “It’s a video from Kevin.” He pressed play.

Footage of Kevin in the boat popped up on the screen. He looked about as miserable as you’d ever seen him.

“Guys,” he said. “I've set up this message with some software on a remote server so it'd send itself to you if I didn't reset it with a command once a week. Which means I didn't reset it this week. And there's only one reason I wouldn't. Which means if you're watching this, then I... then I— I'm dead.” Kevin paused for a moment before lunging at the screen and yelling, “I'm dead, you bastards! So screw you, screw God and everybody in between!”

You flinched, turning your eyes away from the screen for a moment before forcing yourself to watch him. 

“Crowley must've gotten to me,” he continued. His voice was back to the miserable state it had been in. “And the one thing I know is that I won't break this time. Not sure how I know, but— but I do. I've been uploading all my notes, the translations, I'm sending you the links so you can get all of it. You guys are gonna have to try to figure out the rest. I'm sorry.” He began tearing up and you felt yourself cry with him. “I know it was my job, but I— but I couldn't ... I'm sorry.”

You pressed your hand to your mouth as the screen went black and tears rolled down your cheeks. Sam pulled you into him and you flinched when Dean yelled and swiped a stack of books off the table. 

****

“Yeah, I know you haven't seen him, Keel, nobody has,” Dean snapped into his mobile as he walked back into the library. “Alright, well, if you talk to Garth just have him call in.”  
He hung up and looked to where Sam sat by the printer. It whirred to life as it spat out another handful of pages filled with Kevin’s notes. 

“Garth still MIA?” Sam said.

Dean leaned back against the table next to Sam’s. “Yeah.”

Sam held his hands out to the side and shrugged. “How about the other prophets in line? I mean if Kevin is, uh... is dead, then won't one of them be activated?”

“Nothing, no, not a peep.” He looked around, suddenly feeling the need to hold you. “Where’s Y/N?”

Sam’s face dropped and he leaned back in his chair. “Her room, probably. She took it pretty hard.”

Dean flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip and nodded. “’Course. Woman’s heart is too big for her own good.”

“She’s loyal, that’s for sure,” Sam said. “She hasn’t experienced loss as much as we have, Dean.”

“She’s never had anyone to lose before.”

“Right. I mean … she’s still not over Benny. Charlie showing up was a good distraction but she still …”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “I hear her crying too.”

A sniffle had Sam and Dean’s head swivelling towards the library entrance. Their hearts dropped as they saw you standing there looking lost. Your eyes were red and puffy, and your hair was a mess. 

Your voice broke as you said, “We should’ve brought him here.”

****

You sat at the end of one of the library tables. Dean and Sam sat across from each other. The three of you were going through Kevin’s notes trying to figure something out. Anything, really. 

“Huh, there it is again, every time,” Sam said as he compared two pages of notes. 

You looked up at him, not bothering to lift your head from your hand. 

“Hmm?” Dean grunted without looking up.

“This symbol? I know it,” Sam said. “Now, Kevin has it down as, as sort of like a signature, for the Scribe of God. It appears every time Metatron makes one of his, uh, like, editor's notes.”

“Okay...?”

“But I think I've seen it before. I mean, it was a long time ago, it was one of my, uh, humanities courses at Stanford.”

Dean frowned as Sam stood and went to look for a book on the shelves. “They taught Word of God at Stanford?”

“No, uh, it was an overview of Native American art—I think it's a petroglyph.”

“A petro-what-now?”

Sam found the book he was looking for, flipped it open to the page he wanted and put it down on the table for you and Dean to see.

You sighed and pulled yourself to your feet to look over his shoulder at it.

Sam pointed to an illustration of a symbol at the top of the page. “This one belonged to a tiny tribe in Colorado, more of a— a clan, really. It says here they held on to their scrap of mountains when all the other tribes fell to the white men. So this glyph was a territorial marker—closest translation: messenger of God.”

You frowned and took a step back. “Messenger of God.” Sam and Dean looked at you. You felt a drunken type of excitement bubble up in your stomach. “Messenger of God—guys, we have to go there!”

Dean’s eyes widened. “On that hunch? You can barely function.”

You ran a hand through your hair. “I'm only gonna get worse. I mean, until we get back to the real job, until we find the third trial—we're out of prophets! We're not gonna figure out what Kevin couldn't! I say we go to this messenger of God who wrote it in the first place!”

“And you think this Metatron is hiding out in the mountains with a bunch of Indians.”

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah, I do.” Sam and Dean shared a look and you pressed your lips together. “You're not— you're not really supposed to say Indians, it's...” You sighed. “We should go.”

You headed straight for your room to pack leaving Dean and Sam behind to stare after you. 

“She’s delirious,” Dean said.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Sam said. Dean frowned. “I just mean … maybe it’s good for her to have this distraction right now.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, because that’s healthy.”

****

The mountains in Colorado turned out to be a small hotel casino called Two Rivers Hotel. You didn’t think they could get more stereotypical if they tried. Not that you were too concerned with it. The moment you stepped foot in that place you could feel something was up. Your vision kept blurring and tilting, and you were feeling more and more giddy. You felt like you were drunk, to put it simply. 

Then the ringing sound started up. It only lasted about 10 seconds the first time. You turned to Sam and Dean where they’d been trying to book a room. They hadn’t heard anything. 

By the time you’d gotten up to your room and Dean and Sam took a look around the place, you felt like you were at ‘drunk white girl’ stage, and could barely sit up let alone stand.   
Dean and Sam came back through the bedroom door to see you lounged back in bed with an arm over your eyes. 

“Regular tourist mecca we got here,” Dean said. “We're the only guests in this whole place. Last entry in the registry was in '06.”

You grinned when you felt him sit on the edge of your bed. “Hey, Dean, you remember when uh … when we went to that haunted house?”

“The what?” Dean said.

“The haunted house. For Bobby’s dead friend. And - and you thought I was hitting on you? You gave me this long ass speech about how I wasn’t allowed to hit on you ‘cause Sam liked me.”

Sam, who’d been smiling at your slurred words from the other bed, raised his eyebrows and looked to Dean. The elder Winchester rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand at your confession.

“Baby, that was like, two years ago,” Dean said as he looked down at you.

You felt a laugh bubble up your throat so you let it out as you said, “You thought I wanted to have the sex with you.”

Sam coughed to cover up his laugh and Dean gave him a bitch face in return. 

“Okay,” Dean said as he stood. “Uh, me and Sammy are gonna go check out the Two Rivers Tribal Museum and Trading Post.”

“Yeah!” you shouted as you forced yourself up into a seated position and scooted to the end of the bed. “I'm gonna— I'm gonna, uh. I'm gonna follow the hotel manager, D-Dr. Scowley-scowl. He's like a villain from Scooby-Doo.”

“No, hey, uh, sweetie?” You looked up at Dean as he put a hand on your shoulder. “You should get some rest.”

You looked back down at your bed and said, “Yeah, I can do that too.” 

Sam chuckled as you fell back onto the bed with your eyes already closed. He walked over and brushed your hair back from you face before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Stay, Sammy,” you mumbled as you brought a hand up and haphazardly ran it through his hair. “We can have the sex.”

He stifled another laugh before saying, “Y/N, I – I don’t think you’re really in a position to consent let alone have … have ‘the sex’.”

You mumbled something under your breath but ultimately, with your eyes still closed, you patted him on the cheek – the face, really – and slurred, “Y-You’re a good man, Sammy. Good man.”

“Is that the kind of distraction you were hoping for?” Dean hissed once he and Sam were out of the room.

Sam smiled. “You’re just jealous that she didn’t ask you to stay.”

“Shut up.”

****

You were in bed for a good ten minutes before you felt another fever start up. You tossed and turned before finally crawling out of bed and stumbling out into the hallway. You weren’t really sure what you were looking for, all you knew was if you couldn’t rest than you had to help Sam and Dean with the case. 

You hadn’t made it halfway down the hallway before the elevator doors dinged open and you were hiding in an alcove to spy on the Scooby Doo villain as he dropped of a package in front of a hotel room down the end. Normally, it wouldn’t have seemed so strange, except there was already piles of packages by the door. 

The moment the scowling villain was gone, you stumbled further down the hall and all but fell into the pile of packages in your rush to tear one open. It was filled with books.

In your delirious state, that was the most jaw dropping discovery you’d ever made. You half ran, half fell up the hallway back towards your room, muttering ‘oh my God’ over and over again until you had your door closed behind you. You felt your body burn up and your vision kept going blurry but you were determined to call the brothers and tell them about your discovery. 

You managed to ring Dean’s mobile before you collapsed to the ground out cold. 

****

You came to submerged in a bath of ice water. Panic and fear were the first things that entered your mind. You sat up with a deep gasp of air. Your entire body hurt from being in ice for so long. Dean reached down to pull you out and you clung to him like a cat stuck in water. 

“Take it easy, baby. Hey, whoa, whoa, take it easy,” he said as he tried to help you out without being dragged in himself. 

He forced you to stand shivering on your feet so Sam could wrap a large towel around you. You didn’t know if it was the shock of the cold water, or if it was because the fever was gone, but suddenly you could think clearly. Or at least, a lot clearer than before.

“Found you on the floor, passed out, your temperature was a 107,” Dean explained. “We had to force it down or you were toast.”

You didn’t care about his explanation. You only cared about what you saw and the sense that it now made. 

“He's here,” you said. “Metatron is here, I know it, I can hear him.”

“What're you talking about?” Sam said as he started rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. 

You shook your head. “All I know is that I'm connected to it somehow.”

“What, like you got a link to him, like a prophet?” Dean said as he handed Sam another towel.

“I don't know!” you snapped, although the heat was taken out of it as Sam dumped the second towel on your head and began drying your hair. “I just know he's here. Metatron is here.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, "here" where?”

You thought for a second, trying to remember the room number. You couldn’t but you thought maybe you could retrace your steps. “I can show you. The manager. He was delivering books to him.”

“Books?”

You yanked the towel from your head and Sam’s hands as you took a step towards Dean. “Books. Hardcovers, paperbacks, novels—books.”

Dean frowned and shared a look with Sam. “Stories,” they said in unison.

****

Dean and Sam wouldn’t let you out of the room until they had you warm, dry and dressed in fresh clothes – which just happened to be one of their flannels and a pair of your old jeans. 

“We should be taking you to the ER,” Sam said when you finally stumbled out into the hallway with them. You had to hold onto the doorpost just to steady yourself before you could start walking unsteadily down the hall. 

“They can't do anything for me,” you said. “You know, I've been remembering things, little things, so clearly—“

“What? Like earlier?” Dean said. 

They went to catch you when you stumbled again and you shook your head at Dean’s comment. “No. From when I was little. I remember Cas – Cassie used to read to me. He never understood what the stories meant but there was one from that old, uh … Classics Illustrated comic book. Knights of the Round Table. Had all of King Arthur's knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail.” 

You stumbled ahead of the boys and turned to stop them. You didn’t know why but for some reason it was important for them to hear your memory. It was important that they understood how you’d felt as a child. Who you’d been. 

“And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad,” you continued as they stopped and looked down at you, “and – and – and he was kneeling, and— and light streaming over his face, and— I remember... thinking, uh, I could never go on a quest like that. Because I'm not clean.” Sam and Dean shared a look and you watched their faces drop in sorrow. “I mean, I w— I was just a little kid. But – But I knew – even then – that I wasn’t … pure. I had … evil in me. Because – Because of my dad, you know? He put it inside me.”

Sam and Dean watched as your eyes welled up at the confession. They watched your confusion as you ran your hands through your hair and tried to make sense of the memory. Tried to make sense of how a little girl could hate herself so much. How she could think she was dirty because of what happened to her. 

Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth as his own eyes welled up at the image in his head. Sam’s brow furrowed in distress as he tried to force his own images of that time away.

“Y/N, it's not your fault,” Sam said.

You smiled at them. Smiled through the tears that you didn’t know were falling down your face and it broke their hearts. “It doesn't matter anymore,” you said. You pressed a hand over your heart. “Because these trials... they're purifying me.”

Neither of them knew what to say to that. All they could do was watch and follow as you made your way down to the end of the hall and stopped in front of a door. When you began desperately searching the floor and growing more and more distressed, Dean made the decision to take you back to the room and help you rest. He’d seen you in enough pain. And the lost-little-girl look you had on your face kept shattering his heart into pieces.

Just as he moved forward to steer you away you said, “They were here, the— the— the books, the boxes! They— they're gone.”

“Dean,” Sam said.

Dean looked to his little brother and watched as he pushed open the already ajar door. The room was filled with thousands of books that had been piled up into columns around the room. Columns as tall as Sam. 

You looked terrified and lost as you tentatively stepped inside. Dean took the lead to show that everything was okay, and Sam gripped your hand in his to make you feel safe. But the longer you were in the room, the worse you got. When the ringing started up in your head again and you had a pained grimace, that’s when the brothers’ worry sky rocketed. 

Things only got worse when they came face to face with a rifle held by an old man. The moment it was cocked Sam pushed you behind him and blocked you with his body. He could feel you press your head against his back and groan in pain. He shared a lost look with his brother, completely unsure of what they could do to help you. 

“Who're you?” the old man asked. 

“Metatron? This is Metatron?” Dean said. He looked to you. “This is Metatron?”

He looked back to the man, only to find him gone.

“Sit down,” Metatron said.

The three of you spun to find that the man had reappeared behind you. You clutched at your head as the ringing grew sharper. Sam caught you as you stumbled back into him.   
Metatron gestured with his rifle for the three of you to follow his order. 

Dean took you by the shoulders and steered you to the armchair as Sam watched his back. You fell down into the chair and curled up in the corner of it, leaving enough room for Dean to perch on its edge and block most of you from Metatron’s crosshairs. Sam took a seat on the low side table next to you. 

“Who sent you?” Metatron said as he came closer to the three of you.

“We came on our own. We're the Winchesters,” Sam said.

“I'm Dean, this is Sam,” Dean said as he gestured to himself and his brother, purposefully leaving out your name to draw Metatron’s attention away from you.

It didn’t work.

He gestured to you with his rifle and said, “What about her?”

Dean and Sam shared a look before Dean sighed and said, “She’s Y/N.” 

You nodded in agreement as you looked between Dean and Metatron, your hands still clutching at your ears. 

“You work for Michael? Or Lucifer?” Metatron said.

“You really haven't heard of them?” you shouted over the ringing in your head. “What kind of angel are you? They're— they're the freaking Winchesters.”

“Michael and Lucifer?” Dean said. “T-those— those dudes are in the deep fryer.”

“Yeah. We put them there ourselves,” Sam said.

“What about Gabriel? And Raphael?” Metatron said.

“Dead,” you yelled.

Dean shook his head and gave him a confused look. “You really don't know this?” 

“I've been very careful,” Metatron said.

You sighed in irritation and shifted until you were leaning on Dean’s back to get a better look at Metatron. “Hey, can you –” you flinched as the ringing got louder, “can you turn that down?”

Metatron gave you a confused glance. “Turn what dow— oh.” He lowered his rifle and stared at you. “You're resonating.” 

“Resonating?” Dean said. “What— what do you mean, resonating?”

“You've undertaken the trials. You're trying to pull one of the great levers, aren't you? You're pretty far along, too. You get that far along, you start resonating with the Word. Or with its source on the material plane. With me.”

“You said you were being careful,” Sam said. “Careful how?”

“I’m not one of them,” Metatron said. “I'm not an archangel. Really more run-of-the-mill. I worked in the secretarial pool before God chose me to take down the Word. Anyway, he... seemed very worried about his work, what would happen to it when he left, so he had me write down instructions. Then, he was gone. After that, the archangels took over.”   
Metatron pulled up a chair to settle in, his rifle waving about as he moved. Dean and Sam shifted uncomfortably at that and Dean tried to force you back behind him. You weren’t having any of it. 

“And they cried,” Metatron continued, “and they wailed. They wanted their father back. I mean, we all did. But then... then they started to scheme. The archangels decided if they couldn't have Dad, they'd take over the universe themselves. But they couldn't do anything that big without the Word of God. So I began to realise, maybe they would realise... they needed me.”

“So you get a ruffle in your feathers and just decide to disappear?” Dean said. “Go stick your head in the sand, forever?” 

Metatron nodded and you scowled as irritation began growing in your stomach. 

“You have no idea what's been going on out there,” Sam said.

Metatron shook his head and smiled. “Nope. That's the whole point.”

“So you have been holed up here, or – or – or in a wigwam, or before that in some cave, listening to stories, reading books?” Dean growled.

Metatron’s smile turned to a grin, as though he was so proud of his disappearing act. Your irritation quickly grew to anger as he spoke. 

“And it was something to watch,” he said. “What you brought to His Earth, all the mayhem, the murder. Just the raw, wild invention of God's naked apes... it was mind-blowing. But really... really, it was your storytelling.” He stood from the chair and moved until he was leaning against the back of it, his rifle still in hand. “That is the true flower of free will. At least as you've mastered it so far. When you create stories, you become gods, of tiny, intricate dimensions unto themselves. So many worlds! I have read... as much as it's possible for an angel to read, and I haven't caught up.”

“You know what?” you said softly. “Pull the frigging trigger.”

Metatron’s brows shot up to his hairline in shock as Sam and Dean turned to looked at you. 

“What?” Metatron said. 

You began pulling yourself out the chair, pushing past Dean and stumbling over the side table as you growled, “Pull the freaking trigger, you cowardly piece of garbage.”

“Y/N,” Dean warned as he and Sam stood to help right you on your feet. 

You shook them off and they shouted in alarm when you grabbed the end of Metatron’s rifle and pressed it to your sternum. 

“All the time you've been hiding here,” you snapped, “how much suffering have you read over? Humanity's suffering! And how much of it has been at the hands of your kind?!”

“C'mere, hey,” Dean growled as he pushed you back from the gun and into Sam’s hands. 

He turned back to Metatron with a scowl. After what you’d just done he was pissed. But not at you. He was pissed at Metatron for putting you in that situation. He was pissed because he agreed with what you’d said, knew that the suffering that hurt you the most was your own. Yes, an angel had come to comfort you as a child. But when you were going through the kind of crap that you’d gone through … comfort just wasn’t enough. 

In the end you’d had to look to Hell to find your saviour.

And then there was Benny. And Kevin. Where had the angels been when you lost the people that you cared about?

“You want a story?” Dean growled. “Try Kevin Tran's story. He was just a kid. He was a good, straight-A kid, and then he got sucked in to all of this— this angel crap. He became a prophet, of the Word of God. Your prophet. Now, you should've been looking out for him, but no! Instead, you're here, holed up, reading books.”

“He's dead now. Because of you,” you said.

Your heartbroken anger had been enough to kick Metatron’s ass into gear. With barely a word he disappeared only to reappear seconds later with an unconscious Kevin slumped in the armchair. His neck was red and bruised, as though he’d been choked, but when Metatron placed a glowing hand on his chest the marks disappeared. 

“Is that it? Is he good?” Dean said when Kevin didn’t wake up.

You sat heavily onto a pile of books when your legs began to give way. Sam turned to you and reached down to make sure you were okay but you waved him away. 

“Give him a minute,” Metatron said.

He left then, and headed into the kitchen. Dean followed, leaving you and Sam to watch over Kevin. Mainly because you couldn’t stand just yet, and neither Dean nor Sam wanted to leave you alone again. Not after what they walked in on back in the hotel room. 

You leaned against Sam’s leg, finding it hard to keep your head up. He dropped his hand down to play his finger’s against the side of your face and brush them through your hair as he watched Kevin.

Metatron was being serious when he’d said give him a minute, because an exact minute later Kevin came to with a groan. 

Sam called for Dean and you forced yourself to straighten up and smile at Kevin when he looked at you. 

“Kevin?” Dean said when came around the corner. He smiled when the boy looked at him. “Hey. I thought we lost you, kiddo.”

“I'm good,” Kevin said. He slid his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out one half of a tablet. “Second half of the tablet. And I got it. Third trial. I didn't tell Crowley.”

“So what is it?” you said, leaning forward slightly.

“To cure a demon,” Metatron said. 

The four of you turned to look at him and Kevin nodded. “Yeah. Who are you?”

****

Kevin was gone. He’d done his job and was off laying low somewhere. You’d left Metatron in his cozy hotel room, figuring he wasn’t planning on offering hands-on help anytime soon. Dean and Sam sat in the front of the Impala, driving back towards the bunker, as you rested against the back of the seat. 

“Cure a demon,” Dean said in disbelief. “Okay, ignoring the fact that I have no idea what that actually means, if we— if we do this, you get better, right? I mean, you stop trying to cough up a lung, and – and – and bumping into furniture?”

“I feel better,” you said, “yeah, um, just having a direction to move in.”

Dean nodded and you closed your eyes as Sam started combing his fingers through your hair. 

“Well, good,” Dean said, “cause where we're headed doesn't sound like a picnic.”

“But we're heading somewhere,” Sam said. “The end.”

Dean slammed his brakes on abruptly and you had to brace yourself against the back of his seat just to keep from flying over it. You straightened to give him an earful when the car finally stopped but shut your mouth when you saw a man lying in the middle of the road. 

The man shifted to his side and propped himself up with an arm. The moment the headlights of the Impala illuminated his face, you were launching yourself out of the back seat and running towards him.

“Cassie!” you said as you fell to your knees beside him. 

He fell to his back again with a grunt. “A little help, here?”


	29. Nightmare On A Clip Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third trial is finally figured out. Who better to try it on than Abaddon? You'd known things would go south before it even looked like they would. And before you and the boys could clean up your mess, Crowley called with another set of problems.

“Please tell me that's everything,” Sam said as Dean walked into the control room with a pile of files. You and Sam sat side by side at the table going through the ones he’d brought in earlier. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. He chuckled at your relieved looks. “No, not even close. You see, the Men of Letters kept files on every demonic possession for the last 300 years, I mean, we've got Borden, Lizzy, all the way to Crane, Ichabod.”

He dropped the pile down onto the table and the sound that it made had you startled and holding your hands to your head as a sharp pain pulsed behind your eyes. 

Sam’s hand squeezed around your thigh as Dean threaded his fingers through your hair in a soothing gesture. 

“How you feeling?” Dean said when you straightened and blew out a breath. 

You scratched your temple and closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to catalogue the worst of what you were feeling.

“My, uh, my whole body hurts,” you said. “I feel nauseous and like I'm starving at the same time, and everything smells like rotting meat.”

“I've had that hangover,” Dean said with a sparkle in his eye. “Jaeger, man.” 

You looked up at him. You knew he was trying to make you feel better. The more miserable you got, the more he tried to make you laugh. It wasn’t working. 

The sparkle fell from his eye and he flicked a tongue out over his bottom lip. “Maybe you should, uh, take a break, get some air.”

You sighed and looked back down at the files strewn out in front of you. “Dean, the only thing that's gonna make me feel better is finishing this.”

Dean nodded and rubbed his hand against the nape of your neck. “Alright. Well, I'll go get you some grub, keep your strength up.”

“Morning.” 

You looked up to see Cas standing in the entry way. Dean brushed right past him as though he weren’t there. Hurt flashed across Cas’s face. It was gone when he turned back to you and Sam. 

You smiled and returned his greeting. When you tried to stand and hug him, however, you grimaced and fell back into the chair. According to your body, now wasn’t the time for standing. 

On instinct, Cas came towards you and lifted his hand towards your forehead, stopping half-way when he realised healing you wouldn’t do anything. 

You gave his lost look a sad smile and squeezed his hand in yours. 

Not sure what else to do, he glanced around the control room and said, “I like this bunker. “It's orderly.”

Sam scoffed, going along with the change of subject. “Oh, give us a few months. Dean wants to get a ping-pong table.”

Cas narrowed his eyes in thought. “I've heard of that. It's a game, right?”

Before either of you could answer, he doubled over with a groan and collapse down on the chair adjacent to you.

“Cassie,” you cried out. 

You tried to go to him again but Sam’s hands went to your waist as you fell back onto your chair with a groan of your own. 

“You need to take it easy,” Sam said. “Try not to get yourself worked up.” You nodded with a grimace and Sam looked over to Cas. “Are you okay?”

Cas sighed and leaned against the table. “My wound isn't healing as quickly as I'd hoped ... but I am getting better.” He looked at you. “And you're getting worse.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile but you were sure it didn’t come out the way you wanted it to. “Well, two trials down, one to go.”

“And the final test, do you – you know what it is?”

You and Sam shared a look. “I have to cure a demon.”

Cas frowned. “Of what?”

You pressed your lips together and Sam said, “That's what we're trying to figure out.”

“Soup's on,” Dean announced as he walked back into the room carrying a tray with food and a beer on it. He set it down in front of you. “There we go.” He picked up the open bottle of beer. “I think this is, uh ...” He took a sip. “It's still good.”

“A half-drunk beer, jerky, and three peanut-butter cups?” Sam said as he looked down at your plate. “Dean, you can’t feed her this.”

You patted Sam’s shoulder. “No, it’s okay Sam. I’ve been having trouble keeping food down, so less is better.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “we're – we're running a little low.” 

You slipped your hand under his shirt and rubbed it along his stomach and side as you smiled up at him in thanks. It tugged at Dean’s heart strings. For the millionth time since he met you, he realised that you were far too good for him.

Sam was right. He couldn’t give you left over bag crumbs and a beer that wasn’t even cold – or full. He had to make you something.

“I'll make a run,” he said. 

Dean bent and pressed a kiss to the to the top of your head before heading towards the kitchen to see what he would need to pick up.

Cas stood as Dean passed by him. “Dean, I can go with you.” Dean ignored him. For a moment you thought Cas might let it go, but when Dean reached the door to the kitchen, Cas said, “Dean. I'm sorry.”

Dean stopped and turned to look at him. His face was set in stone, which meant he was prepared to give Cas a verbal lashing.

That was the last thing you wanted just then. 

“For what?” Dean growled.

Cas lifted his hands out to the side in a shrug. “For everything.”

“Everything? Like, uh ... like ignoring us?” Cas nodded. “Or like bolting off with the Angel Tablet, then losing it 'cause you didn't trust me? You didn't trust me.” Cas nodded again, looking like a little kid being reprimanded by their father. “Yeah. Nah, that's not gonna cut it. Not this time. So you can take your little apology and you cram it up your ass.”

“Dean!” you said.

He looked to you, ready to lash out for you not taking his side. Then he saw you fall back in your chair with a sigh as Sam fussed over you. 

It wasn’t about you taking sides. Dean was being selfish to think that. It was about you not wanting the people you loved to fight. 

“Dean, I thought I was doing the right thing,” Cas said.

Dean nodded, the fight had fallen right out of him. “Yeah, you always do. Do me a favour. Don’t stress her out while I’m gone. That means no crappy apologies.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Before you go, do we, uh, do we have a room 7B?”

****

Dean pushed open the door of 7B, raising his flashlight as he entered with Sam following behind. 

“Dude, go easy on Cas, okay,” Sam said. “He's one of the good guys.”

Dean rolled his eyes and turned to Sam. “Dude, if anybody else – I mean anybody – pulled that kind of crap, I would stab them in their neck on principle. Why should I give him a free pass?”

Sam threw his hands up as if the answer was obvious. “Because it's Cas.” Dean shook his head in disapproval. “Look, do it for Y/N, then. She barely has any friends.”

“She doesn’t have any friends,” Dean growled. “I’d hardly call the King of Hell, a rogue angel and a computer hacker with a hundred identities, friends.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “The point is, she doesn’t have a lot of people in her life. So she’s trying to hold on to the people that she can. She’s willing to forgive a lot of crap just to do that. Don’t make it harder on her by pushing away the people she cares about. And – and it’ll just make her feel worse about herself. She already thinks she’s a monster. It doesn’t help when you get pissed at the people she’s willing to forgive.”

Dean sighed. The hard look was still on his face but Sam knew he’d gotten through to him.

“What are we supposed to be looking for down here?” Dean said as he shined his flashlight over the case boxes stacked on the shelves. 

“Um, anything on case 1138. It was a class 5 infernal event – St. Louis, March 8, 1957.”

“Class 5 infernal event?” Dean said as he went to his own side of the room to look through the boxes. 

“Yeah,” Sam said. “See, the Letters have this whole rating system. The Exorcist would have been a class 2.”

Dean nodded. “Alright, so, what makes this puppet show so special?”

“It was weird.”

“Weird how?”

Sam shrugged and crouched down to look at one of the bottom shelves. “No clue. One of the files just had a note written in the margin about room 7B and the word "weird" with three exclamation points.”

“Good times,” Dean said, though he was distracted by the odd metal curve peeking out beneath one of the shelves. 

“Got it,” Sam said as he opened up one of the boxes and pulled out the file he’d been looking for.

“Sammy, check this out.” 

Dean pushed back two sets of shelves to reveal a small room with a devil’s trap covering most of the floor and manacles hanging from the walls. 

“Is that a Devil's Trap?” Sam said as he came up beside an awed Dean. “It takes up half the room.” He shone a light onto the manacles. “These chains – they have spell work etched into them.”

“So we have a dungeon. Oh man, Y/N’s gonna love this.” Dean looked down at the folder in Sam’s hand. “What do you got there?”

Sam put the end of his flashlight between his teeth and opened it up. He took the flashlight back into his hand when he was done and shined it down onto the projector film in his hand. “Movie night?”

****

You were all gathered around a table in the dark library to watch the film Sam had found. Cas included. You were surprised when Dean didn’t kick up a fuss about him being there. You were grateful for his patience, though. So when the projector was set up and everyone took their seats, you curled up in his lap and let his hands stroke and squeeze and tickle whatever part of you he needed to, to convince himself you were okay. 

By the time the film was over, you understood why Sam had been so desperate to find it. The camera had been run by Abaddon. Only it wasn’t Abaddon but her meat suit from before the possession. You remembered Henry had called her Josie. 

There had been two priests in the film as well. A terrified young man – younger than you – named Simon. And an older man called Father Thompson. They looked to be exorcising a demon from an older woman’s body but they weren’t using any tactics that you or the boys used. 

She was in the middle of a devil’s trap but she’d been chained to her knees in odd manacles. Manacles that Sam said looked just like the ones from your newfound dungeon.   
Father Thompson cut his hand open as Simon held out a pair of rosary beads in front of him. Both of them began chanting the exorcism that you and the boys used. The end of it, however, was different. 

As the priests yelled ‘lustra’, Father Thompson stepped into the devil’s trap and pressed his bloody hand over the demon’s mouth.

A bright light emitted from her. The screen went white for a moment, then it died down to reveal the old woman to be dead with her heart missing. 

By the looks of it, the exorcism hadn’t gone as planned. 

The projector clicked and the film stopped.

Dean’s hands had stopped moving over your skin. You knew he was as shocked as you were. “Well, that was weird ... with three exclamation points,” he said.

“That wasn't a normal exorcism,” you said. “They changed the words.”

“I believe ‘lustra’ is Latin for wash or cleanse,” Cas said.

You slid out of Dean’s lap and stood at the end of the table so you could see the three of them. 

“Oh, yeah, 'cause that was the most freaky thing was the vocabulary,” Dean said as he turned in his seat to look at Cas and Sam. “What about the bloody high five or the chest burster? Anything else on the film, like director's commentary, sequel, maybe?”

“Yeah,” Sam said as he typed a few things into his search engine, “listen to this. The older priest, Max Thompson, bit the dust in '58, but the younger one is still alive and still in St. Louis.”

“Think this kind of weird is worth the drive?” Dean said.

You looked at him and Sam straightened. “Dean,” you said, “everything in those folders – the possessions, the deals, all of it – we've seen that before, but that – that was all new. Yeah, it's worth the drive.”

Dean nodded and pushed himself to his feet. “All right. Let's roll.”

The three of you headed towards the exit but Dean stopped and turned to point at Cas as the angel stood from the table. “Not you,” he growled. 

You looked up at Dean and Sam looked to you. 

“Y/N is more damaged than I am,” Cas said. You didn’t take offense to it, he was simply stating fact. 

 

"Yeah, well, you know, even banged up, Y/N comes through,” Dean said.

Cas looked around the room a little lost before looking to the eldest Winchester. “Dean, I just want to help.”

“We don't need your help. Just stay here and – and get better.”

Dean tuned to leave again but stopped when you headed back over to Cas.

“I told you,” Sam said as he and Dean watched you wrap your arms around Cas’s neck.

Dean watched and waited for you to say goodbye but as Cas’s arms came around you, Dean found himself not liking the way the angel buried his face in your neck and dropped his hand a little low on your back to pull you into him. 

Dean thought for a moment that he may have been imagining things so he looked to his younger brother to see how he felt. Sure enough, Sam’s brows were furrowed as he watched them. He didn’t look as angry or jealous as Dean felt but there was no doubt he thought it was a little strange that Cas held you longer than usual. 

He seemed more invested in your simple hug than he ever had before. 

Dean cleared his throat, growing tired of watching another man hold you like that. You pulled away from Cas and gave him a small smile before patting his chest and making your way back over to Sam and Dean. 

Sam’s attention automatically became encompassed by you but Dean watched as Cas’s eyes followed your movements. When you and Sam turned to head towards the exit, Cas finally pulled his eyes from you to glance at Dean. He became flustered and looked away again the moment he saw Dean watching him. That was enough for Dean to know that that hug hadn’t been completely innocent for Cas. 

****

Your grandparents had been religious freaks. The kind that followed the bible word for word. Old testament style. Their priest had been much of the same. So when you said you hated priests and the hard-core religious types, you were making an understatement. Which was a little ironic considering your relationship with Cas and Crowley.

You were sure Father Simon could feel your animosity from a mile away. Even Sam and Dean were exchanging confused glances over your attitude towards him. 

“Father Thompson had some unorthodox ideas, which is why the Men of Letters were interested,” Father Simon said. 

“Aren’t most of the church’s ideas unorthodox,” you said as you folded your arms and leaned against the end of a pew. 

Father Simon looked to you, his mouth open as he tried to find the words to reply to your thinly veiled jab.

“What she meant to say was,” Sam said as Dean gave you a questioning look, “unorthodox how?”

Father Simon looked relieved to have a question he could answer. “Father Thompson believed demons could be saved.”

“What exactly do you mean, saved?”

Father Simon pressed his lips together. “A demon is a human soul, twisted and corrupted by its time in Hell. Father Thompson believed that you could wash that taint away and restore their humanity.”

“So, what, they just stay in whatever schmuck they're possessing and – and get a ticket upstairs?” Dean said.

Father Simon shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

You frowned and pushed off the pew, taking a step towards Father Simon. “Okay, but this – this ritual ... can cure a demon?”

Father Simon shrugged. “I suppose, if it worked, but that night, something went terribly wrong. The Demon escaped into the world, and that poor old woman ... it was horrible. I know Father Thompson kept trying. There were other possessions, experiments, but I couldn't face that – not again. And then, a few months later ... he was dead.

“How'd that happen?” Dean said.

“Something tore him apart.”

You pushed a hand through your hair and shifted from foot to foot as you felt your body begin heating up again. “Did he keep any, uh …” You pressed a hand to your mouth as a cough forced it’s way up your throat. “Did he keep records or –” You leaned against one of the pews as the coughing started back up again. You pulled your hand away when you were done and looked down to find it splattered with blood. 

You looked to the brothers. Sam wasn’t looking at you but you could tell he knew. Dean, on the other hand, was staring at the blood on your hand. He looked lost. Like a child that had just had their mother or father taken away from him. 

Sam stood from his seat and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I saw a bathroom in back. Come on.” 

He steered you away from the priest then, leaving a broken Dean with him.

“Is she all right?” Father Simon said when you and Sam were out of earshot.

Dean turned his eyes from you and stood to lean his hands against the back of Sam’s pew. “Uh, no, padre. She's ... pretty damn far from all right. That's why we're here.”

Father Simon frowned and moved closer to Dean. “I don't understand.”

“Well, short story is, uh, Y/N there is gonna take whatever shredded your friend and every other black-eyed bitch out there, and she's gonna get rid of them for good.”

Father Simon’s eyebrows shot up in shock, “She is? In her condition?”

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded. “Father, over the past couple of months, I've seen her do crap that I didn't even think was possible. I mean, sure, she's miserable and she's hurting, but you know what? There's not a doubt in my mind that she's gonna cross that finish line – not one. So, will you help us?”

Father Simon nodded. “I'll get Father Thompson's things for you.”

Dean nodded. “Thank you. Oh, and, uh, Father?” Father Simon turned back to him. “I’d like to apologise for the way Y/N acted. She, uh … well, she’s been going through –”

Father Simon held his hand up to stop Dean. “No need. You’d be surprised how many people harbour such hatred for the church. And whilst it’s nice to think that those people are just bigots. Unfortunately, that’s rarely the case. I’ve met many people like her. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she’s suffered at the hands of the church. She doesn’t need forgiveness. She just needs to learn how to give it.”

****

Cas wasn’t at the bunker when you returned, much to your chagrin. Dean tried to distract you. Turn your mind from the worry that Cas may not come back again. You thought maybe he felt guilty. You thought maybe he should. 

Nevertheless, the distractions worked because he used audio recordings of Father Thompson’s demon-cure tests to do it. The last one was the most interesting. The one that felt like a painkiller to the aches and pains in your body because it was the homerun to performing the last trial. 

It was recorded two days before Father Thompson’s death. The subject was named Peter Kent. Three weeks prior, he’d been possessed by a demon and ate his two little boys.   
After hearing that, you knew curing Mr Kent wouldn’t save him. It may even kill him. 

Eight hours. Eight gruelling hours of Father Thompson injecting his purified-by-confession blood into the demon and asking him how he felt when he ate those little boys. That’s how long it took for the demon to beg for his life.

Except demons didn’t beg.

Father Thompson wasn’t done there. He began chanting the exorcism again. The one from the film. Based on that you guessed he cut open his palm and pressed it over the demon’s mouth. 

Sam and Dean sat forward in their seats. You chewed on your nails, and for the last time Father Thompson said, “When you ate his children, how did it feel?”

Mr Kent’s voice was quiet. “They were screaming ... and I laughed. Why did I laugh? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God, I was a monster.”

“But now you are a man again,” Father Thompson said. “And you have been saved.”

You leaned forward and switched off the audio recording. “Did he just ... cure a demon?”

“Maybe,” Dean said. “Could we take this hoodoo on a test drive?”

Sam began flipping through the files in front of him. “Um, I mean, I have the exorcism right here. All we need is the blood, consecrated ground, and a demon.”

“So, what?” you said. “We summon a demon, trap it –”

“Or,” Dean said, “or we use one that we've already tagged.” He looked at Sam. “Do we still have dad's old army field surgeon's kit?”

Sam shrugged. “It's in the trunk. Why?”

“Yeah, I think it's time we put humpty dumpty back together again.”

****

Abaddon sat unconscious (you thought) in a chair in an abandoned warehouse far away from the bunker. If things went sideways, the last thing you wanted was for her to have access to the very thing she killed Henry for. 

Dean was holding her head on straight as Sam put in the last stitches. 

When he grimaced for the millionth time you rolled your eyes and said, “I told you I could do it, Sam.”

“And we told you,” Dean said, “you can’t.”

“I stitched you up didn’t I?”

Dean looked up through his lashes at you. “Yeah. I have the horrendous scar to prove it.”

“Done,” Sam said as he stood and deposited the needle onto the bench near Abaddon. 

He took a step back and you and Dean did the same. A moment passed and then her eyes snapped open. As black as obsidian. 

She rotated her head and every time her neck cracked you grew sicker in the stomach. You still hadn’t forgotten what she told you. 

She let out a sigh of relief and smiled at Sam and Dean as her eyes flicked back to their usual colour. “Morning, sunshines.” Her eyes drifted to you and her smile turned to a Cheshire grin. “Oh, and you brought my little kitten with you. Thanks for that. I’ll take real good care of her.”

You swallowed hard enough to hurt your throat and fought your feet not to shift back. You thought maybe she could smell fear. 

“Good luck with that,” Sam said. The corner of his lips twitched up in a smirk that you didn’t think was warranted. 

“We figured kitty didn't need her claws,” Dean said with the same smile. 

Inside your mind you screamed at them to stop taunting her. You said nothing. 

She snarled and jerked as she tried to stand. “Then I'll stump you to death. It'll be swell.”

“Yeah, that's not gonna happen, either,” Sam said. “The bullet – remember?”

“So you sit there like a good little bitch. We're gonna consecrate the ground, and you're gonna get to fessing up,” Dean said.

“Oh, I know this tune,” Abaddon said. 

“I doubt that,” Sam said.

“Father Max Thompson, born October 12, 1910. Died August 5, 1958. Who do you think ripped him apart?” The smile fell from the Winchester’s faces. You couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. “Word got back to home office that Maxie was messing with things, so we made an example. It wasn't my most artful kill, but it was effective. And bonus – before he died, he told me all about Josie Sands. I found her, and I rode her into the Men of Letters.” She laughed and turned her eyes to you. “And what I did to them, that was art. Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll teach you all my ways. You’ll be a hunter’s nightmare in no time.” 

“So you know what Max was doing?” Sam said in an effort to draw her attention from you. 

She looked at him but something told you her attention hadn’t quite left you. “Fella screamed the basics,” she said, “but it'll never work.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Dean growled. 

The ring of Sam’s phone echoed through the warehouse. He answered with a confused frown. A moment later he was scowling. “Crowley.”

“Crowley?” Abaddon said. “The salesman?”

“Try the King of Hell,” you said.

She scoffed. “This is a joke, right?”

“Stay,” Dean growled as he jabbed a finger in Abaddon’s direction and followed Sam towards the exit. 

You watched him go and felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You knew before you turned back around that Abaddon was watching you.

“Does he always treat you like a dog?” she said. 

“He was telling you to stay.” Your voice wasn’t as loud or as firm as you wanted it to be. It hadn’t been when you were a child either.

“Was he?” You didn’t answer. 

She cocked her head to the side. Her eyes swept over you. She didn’t look at you like you were prey but you were just as terrified. Because the look she was giving you meant you were something much worse.

“You weren’t scared of me when we first met,” she said.

“Who says I’m scared of you?”

She looked up at your face and smiled at what she saw. “Maybe you’re not scared of me. But you are scared.” You said nothing and she lifted her head higher in realisation. “Oh … you’re scared of yourself.” She gave you a faux pout. “It wasn’t what I said was it?”

“Y/N!” 

You turned at the sound of Dean’s voice. He jerked his head towards the door he was standing near. “Don’t you wanna know what your ‘daddy’ has to say?”

You sighed and glanced back at Abaddon. Her confused frown was back in place. 

“Crowley can’t be your father,” she said. 

“He’s not. He just wants to be.”

You left her with that thought in mind. 

Once you were outside by the Impala, Sam turned his phone to speaker and you heard Crowley say, “This isn't a social call. I was wondering. You lads been reading the papers, say, Denver Times from yesterday?” Dean pulled his phone out and began doing just that. “No? Well, you should. It's side-splitting. What the hell – I'm sexting you an address. Check it out. Then we'll talk. Cheerio.”

“Wait, what?” Sam said. “Crowley?” 

He was gone.

“Here it is,” Dean said as he turned his phone to show you and Sam an article. “Vic's name is Tommy Collins. Tommy. Why do I know that name?”

“Well, Tommy Collins, we saved him from a Wendigo like forever ago,” Sam said.

“Okay, and, what, you think that Crowley blew his head off?” you said. “Well, what are we dealing with here? Some sort of Demon-Wendigo team-up?”

“Uh, no clue,” Sam said.

“Alright,” Dean said, “well, we'll pour one out for Tommy later. As far as Crowley goes, screw him. We got everything we need to put him in a permanent time-out.”

Only, Abaddon was gone when you went back into the warehouse. So were her hands. In fact, the only thing left behind was the bullet that was meant to be in her head. 

Your stomach churned and you swallowed down the bile that rose up your throat as Sam’s phone chimed.

“It's a text message from Crowley,” Sam said, “an address in Prosperity, Indiana.”

“Prosperity?” Dean growled. “Didn't we work a case there? Yeah, yeah, the one with the witches and the baked goods.”

“So, what? He's going after somebody there now?” you said.

“I don't know,” Sam said. “We got to check it out.”

“You know it's a trap.”

“Of course it's a trap. But a trap means demons, and we could use one right now.”

****

The woman was already dead when you got there. Burnt to a crisp in her oven with freshly baked cupcakes on the bench. Her name was Jenny, and she was yet another victim the boys had saved on one of their earlier hunts. 

Crowley wasn’t screwing around this time. He wanted Kevin and the demon tablet back, and he wanted you to stop the trials or he was gonna kill a person the Winchester’s had saved every twelve hours. He gave you a motel and room number, and 57 minutes to get there before the next person died. 

He said nothing else. Least of all to you. And on the odd occasions he had talked to you, it was as though you were just another Winchester thorn in his side. 

You didn’t think he would be any kinder to you in the future. You’d made your stance clear. It just so happened you weren’t standing on his side of the field any more. 

His directions led you to a woman named Sarah. A woman that a scrawny little Sam had once had a crush on. You might have teased him about it if the situation hadn’t been so serious. 

“Sarah,” Dean said in a friendly, reassuring fashion as he dumped all the equipment he was carrying onto the ground, “long time. What you doing in Indy?”

“I ... was scouting an estate sale for my dad,” she said.

Dean tried to show interest which made you smile because you knew he wasn’t really sure what she was talking about, let alone cared. 

“Look,” Sam said, “we're gonna put Devil's Traps everywhere – the windows, the door. We've got holy water, an exorcism ready to play on a loop, and anything that comes through   
that door – it's meat. Look, I know this is insane, but insane is kind of what we do. We'll keep you safe.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Your brows shot up to your hairline and you shared a look with Dean. “Okay?” you said. “That's it?”

She gave you a tight lipped smile. “They've done it before. And I’m assuming you can hold your own.”

“She sure can,” Dean said with a proud smile as he stood and pulled you into him. 

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away in fake annoyance but there was no hiding your blush or smile. 

Without wasting anymore time, you and Dean got to spray painting wards over Sarah’s windows while Sam sat with her to offer comfort. 

Sam and Sarah sat on a bed side-by-side to watch you and Dean work. He nodded towards her engagement ring and said, “That’s new.”

She looked down and twisted it with a smile. “Yeah, I ... his name is Ian. He works search and rescue. Guess I have a type.” Sam smiled. “Our daughter, Bess – she'll be one in a month.”

Sam nodded. “That's, uh, great. I mean it. I'm really, uh ... I'm really happy for you.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Sarah said. She glanced towards you with a sly smile. “And what about you?”

“Me?” He chuckled, Sarah’s hint going straight over his head. “Pretty much the same, I guess.”

She looked at him. “No, you're not. You're not the same.” Sam’s brows furrowed. “Look, it's been years, and I can't even imagine the things you've been through. But I don't know. You just seem ... more focused, confident, like ... like you know what you want.” She jerked her head towards you. “Something tells me she has something to do with it.”

Sam looked at you and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

Sarah chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I know that look. You’re in love with her.”

Sam laughed and glanced down at the ground with a nod. “A little bit, yeah.”

She shook her head. “Way more than a little bit.”

The motel phone rang then and everyone was on high alert. Dean answered and put it on speaker phone when he saw Crowley’s caller ID: 666. 

The moment you said his name, he began counting down from five. You didn’t bother trying to get through to him. Instead, the four of you raised your guns and kept your eyes peeled on the windows and doors, waiting for demons to bust through them. 

It hit midnight and Sarah began choking. No demons came. She just fell to the ground and clawed at her neck as she tried to drag air into her lungs. 

Sam fell to his knees at her side.

“She's dying,” Crowley said, “and there's nothing you can do about it.”

“You son of a bitch!” Dean said.

“Son of a witch, actually. My mommy taught me a few tricks.”

“It's a spell,” you said. “Find the hex bag.”

You, Sam and Dean tore apart that entire motel room. Crowley stayed on the line giving a whole villain speech about how he was keeping his demons away from you. How the people Sam and Dean had saved were their justification for all the crappy things they do. 

The more he talked – the longer it took you to find the hex bag – the more frantic you became. The room was a mess by the time you realised there were no other places to look.

Sam fell to his knees at Sarah’s side. He tried his best to comfort her. To tell her that she’d be okay. That’s all he could do because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t save her. 

She died in Sam’s arms and Crowley carried on talking as though it were nothing.

“You want to keep those people alive,” he said. “I want complete and utter surrender. The tablet, the trials – you'll give them up, or we'll keep doing this dance. Your choice, my darlings.”

Crowley hung up.

Sam left Sarah on the floor and fell back against one of the beds. Dean stood there looking as lost as ever with the phone in his hand. He looked down at it. You watched as his face twisted in anger and he threw the phone across the room. 

It broke as it hit the wall. Your stomach dropped when the hex bag tumbled out of it.

You sat on the end of the other bed. Hating yourself because you still couldn’t find it in you to hate Crowley.


	30. Sacrifice The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time of the last trial has come. Only the brother's find out that there's a catch. What's worse - when they tell you you'll die, they find out you'd been expecting that all along.

“You have less than one minute before a very dear, attractive, and slightly tipsy friend of yours snuffs it.”

You rubbed your fingers over your eyes as you listened to Crowley’s smug voice over the speaker phone of your mobile. Sam sat across the table from you, his brow furrowed as he mulled over the plan. You could see that the closer to the end you got, the more and more he began worrying about you.

Dean was too angry to worry just then. Or at least he used anger to hide his worry. If that was the case, then his scowl meant he was terrified. 

“Call it off, Crowley,” you said.

 

“Because?”

“Because it's over you son of a bitch,” Dean growled. “We want to deal.”

“Thirty seconds,” Crowley said.

“We stop the trials, and you stop the killing,” you said.

“I want the Demon Tablet -- the whole Demon Tablet.”

You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth and glanced at the brothers. “Fine, but then the Angel Tablet comes to us.”

“On what grounds?” Crowley snapped. You’d never heard him be so outraged. 

Dean snatched the phone from your hand – much to your own outrage – and growled, “On the grounds that you're a douche bag and no douche bag should have that much power. Deal or not?”

“First, I need to hear two little words -- I surrender.”

Dean rolled his eyes and glanced off to the side. At first, you thought he was just burying his pride enough to say it. But then he took too long. Long enough that Crowley began counting down from five. 

You managed to jump from your seat and cry, “I surrender,” before he reached one. 

“Good girl,” Crowley purred. “How did I know it would be my little kitten to jump in and save the day? I’ll send you an address and a time. Don’t be late. Sext you later.” 

You snatched your phone back from Dean with a scowl when Crowley hung up. “You know I hate it when you just yank things out of my hand like that.”

“Guys,” Sam said as he stood. 

The fighting between you and Dean had become so bad since the deaths started that Sam was learning to read body language quicker than he ever had before. One look at the two of you then and he knew a fight was about to break out. 

Dean turned his scowl to you. “Well, I hate when the King of Hell gives you pet names. But I don’t go around bitching about it, do I?” 

“Dean,” Sam snapped. 

Dean didn’t notice you swipe at the tears that welled up in your eyes but Sam did. And when you stormed out of the room without another word that just made Sam angrier at his brother. 

“What the hell, man?” Sam said as Dean turned to him.

“What? She started it.” 

“Of course she did! You’ve been acting like a dick to her all day.”

Dean rolled his eyes and went to leave but Sam stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“I’m serious, Dean. You need to stop this. Y/N hasn’t been doing good –”

“Yeah, well, the trials will do that to you.” Dean tried to move past his brother again but Sam stopped him.

“It’s not just the trials.” As Dean gave him an impatient look, Sam dragged a hand over his mouth before saying, “I found fresh cuts on her hip this morning.”

Dean’s frown deepened. “What? You mean …”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. She said she got it from a low hanging branch on her jog. But she takes the same trail every day and she’s never been hurt on it before.” 

Dean sighed and leaned back against the table as he rubbed a hand over his face. 

“Look, I get it,” Sam said. “Sometimes, when she gets frustrated she takes it out on us. So, it’s only fair that we do the same. But there’s a double standard here, Dean. She’s been alone her entire life. She’s never had someone love or protect her - until us. If you yell at me I’m still gonna wake up the next morning and know that you would do anything for me. But if you yell at her? She’s gonna wake up the next morning and think something’s changed. She’s high maintenance. She needs constant reassurance but we knew what we were getting into. We knew what kind of baggage she had. We can’t screw up like this, Dean. Especially not when we don’t … when we don’t know how much longer we’ll have her.”

“Don’t say that,” Dean growled. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Sam pressed his lips together. “If you’re so sure of that then why are you so scared for her?”

****

Kevin had more than a handful of concerns when you’d told him you needed to give the demon tablet back to Crowley. He shut up once you’d told him the plan, though, and was more than happy to personally lead you and the brothers to where he’d hid it.

Which just so happened to be under a billboard for ‘Dave and Paul’s Chili Pot Restaurant’. Ironically, the face of the restaurant was the devil.

“You hid the Demon Tablet underneath the devil?” you said. “Seriously?”

Kevin glanced up at you as he pulled a bag from the hole he’d dug in the dirt. “What? I was delirious.” 

You held your tongue as he pulled the two halves of the demon tablet from the bag and placed them together so they could rebind. 

“You sure this is gonna work?” he said as he handed the tablet to Sam.

“What choice do we have?” Sam said.

Dean pulled the box that held the bunker key from his coat pocket and handed it to Kevin. “Alright, listen, this is a secret lair. You understand me? No keggers.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes at Dean’s joke. “I don't have any friends.”

“Yeah, well, just lay low. Who knows? You'll be a mathlete again before you know it.”

Dean turned on his heel and headed back to the Impala with Sam following close behind. You looked to Kevin with a smile.

“Thanks, Kev,” you said. “I’m sorry. I know Sam and Dean don’t always say it but they are grateful for your help.”

Kevin shrugged and shot them an annoyed glance when Dean called out for you to hurry up. “Yeah, well, they don’t need to be polite. They’ve got you to clean up their messes, right?”

You pressed your lips together, not sure how to reply. Finally, you chose not to, and instead turned on your heel and began towards the car.

“You know, you guys are doing the right thing,” Kevin called.

You turned to look at him but again didn’t have an answer other than a friendly smile to give him. 

****

Due to Crowley’s bad taste in humour, the meeting spot ended up being by one of the old buildings on Bobby’s land. Even worse, Crowley was waiting near Bobby’s old car which, by then, was overrun with weeds, dirt, and rust. There were even plants growing out of the engine. 

“Hello, boys,” Crowley said. As always, his eyes drifted to you last. “Kitten.”

You couldn’t manage a smile for him. Not when you had no idea where the two of you stood. 

“What's that old expression? Success has many fathers. Failure is a Winchester.” Crowley chuckled at his own joke. The smile fell to a scowl a moment later when he realised none of you were playing around. “Where's the stone?”

“You show us yours, and we'll show you ours,” Dean said.

“Really, Dean?” Crowley said. “I'm trying to conduct a professional negotiation here, and you want to talk dangly bits? The stone.” Sam stepped forward as he reached into his jacket. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Slowly.”

Sam paused a moment before slowing his movements and pulling the tablet out just enough to show Crowley. 

“There she is,” Crowley said. He opened his own coat to show the angel tablet tucked away inside. 

“And the contract?” Dean said.

“Crowley pulled out a scroll and threw the end of it. It unrolled across the ground to fill up the 10-foot space between you and him.

You scoffed. “Yeah, I'm sure there's no hidden agendas in there.”

Crowley smirked. “The highlights --we swap tablets, you stand down from the trials forever.”

“You stop killing everyone we've ever saved,” Sam said.

“Agreed.”

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen to sign. Just as he uncapped it, Crowley pulled the contract back a few feet.

“Unh-unh-unh. Nice try, squirrel. Kitten is doing these trials. Kitten signs.”

“No, no. She's not signing anything until I read the fine print,” Dean growled.

You clenched your teeth and yanked the pen from his grip, remembering with a pang of guilt that you told him earlier you didn’t like it when he did that to you.

“I can read it,” you said.

He looked down at you. You expected a scowl, and though his brow was furrowed, there was no anger there. Just worry, and more fear than you’d ever seen in his face before.  
“Hey, you wanted me here. I'm here. But I'll be damned if I'm gonna let him screw us even more,” Dean said.

Crowley chuckled. “What's this? Trouble in paradise?”

With a roll of his eyes, Dean closed the gap between Crowley and himself as he picked the contract up and began reading through it. 

You’d never realised how slow Dean read until lives depended on it. Twenty minutes in and you were leaning back against Sam trying not to fall asleep. 

“I know you’re tired,” Sam said in your ear. “Just a little longer. You can sleep in the backseat on the way home.”

“You're gonna move your lips the whole way up here, aren't you?” Crowley said.

You looked up in time to see Dean give him a glare. 

“You know why I always defeat you?” Crowley continued. “It's your humanity. It's a built-in handicap. You always put emotion ahead of good, old-fashioned common sense. Let's have Kitten sign it now, shall we?”

Dean pressed his lips together and turned to look at you as Sam let you push away from him. You uncapped the pen and paused a few steps away from the two men. 

Dean watched you like a hawk, and after a few seconds of thought you looked at him and nodded once. 

That was all he needed. The look of shock on Crowley’s face when Dean slapped the handcuffs on did nothing to ease your guilt. 

“Is this a joke?” Crowley said as he lifted his hand and shook the handcuffs that attached him to Dean. “You realize all I have to do is ...” he clicked his fingers. Nothing happened.   
Dean smiled. “Demonic handcuffs, jackass. No flicking, no teleporting, no smoking out -- oh, and... no deal. Which pretty much means that you're our bitch.”

Crowley scowled. “Fine. You want to play chain gang? Let's.” 

Dean’s head snapped back when Crowley’s fist hit his nose. 

“You saddled yourself to the wrong bull, mate,” Crowley growled. 

Dean’s lip curled up in anger before his fist even began to swing around towards Crowley, you knew it was going to hurt a hell of a lot more than the King’s punch.

You were right. Crowley grunted as his head snapped to the side. Dean grabbed the lapels of his coat and gave him a hard shake. 

“I can do this all day, 'cause you know what? Damn, it feels good!” Dean growled as Crowley poked at the cut on his lip with his tongue. “But sooner or later, you're gonna have to face it -- you're ours. Which means that your demon ass is going to be a mortal ass pretty damn quick.”

Crowley’s brow furrowed as he turned his eyes to you. “What's he mouthing on about?”

“You're the third trial, Crowley,” you said. 

****

Dean sat in the back seat of the Impala while you slept. He had one foot out the open door. Through the windshield, he stared at the abandoned church in silence. 

This was it. The end of the line. 

Dean looked back at you and realised that no matter the outcome you were not going to be okay. If it went wrong, you would die. If it went right … well, there was still the matter of your relapse. 

Sam had made him see sense. He was terrified for you, yes, but now that he’d stopped being angry, Dean could see that you were relapsing. 

He couldn’t remember the last time you’d been to the chemist with all the crap that had been going on, which meant you’d probably been out of medication for at least a few weeks. Maybe even a month. You were irritable and tired all the time. Dean had thought it was from the trials but what if it wasn’t? 

What if he’d been looking at your symptoms and blaming it on the trials. The aches, pains and nausea could be attributed to it, sure. But everything else were signs of PTSD and depression. In fact, they were the very same signs you’d showed before meeting with the psychologist. 

Dean couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. How stupid he constantly was when it came to you. It felt like he kept making the same mistakes over and over. Why couldn’t he just get it right for once? 

“Why are you beating yourself up?” 

Dean stirred and looked down at you when you spoke. You were curled up against the door, looking up at him through your lashes. It made his breath catch in his throat. He had always loved your eyes. He remembered feeling guilty the first time he’d met you. He’d known that Sam had a thing for you and yet he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your eyes looking up at him.

If he’d only known then what he knew now. He would have been a much happier man. He would have been a lot smarter too.

“Stop it,” you said. 

“Stop what?” 

“Beating yourself up over everything. I feel guilty enough. Don’t make it worse.”

This was one of those moments he wished he could have been smarter about. “I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty.”

You sat up straighter in the seat and swung your feet down onto the floor. “Yeah, you don’t mean to do a lot of things.”

You crawled out of the car then – without a smile or a kiss. Not even a reassuring look. You left and Dean knew you weren’t planning on coming back from the trials. The front seat of his Impala had never taken such a beating. And his heart had never felt so heavy. 

****

“You really think this is gonna hold me, that you're gonna cure me or whatever it is?” Crowley said as Sam finished spray painting the edge of the devil’s trap around him. 

Crowley tried to sit forward in the chair but was pulled back when the chain around his neck reached its limit. 

Sam said nothing, neither did you. 

The two of you left the church to find Dean at the boot of the Impala filling up a jar with holy oil.

“He’s ready,” Sam said as he stopped next to his brother.

Dean nodded and looked at you. You were avoiding his eyes as you rummaged around in the boot to get all the materials together. “How – how you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you said without looking up. 

Dean gave his little brother a helpless look but Sam just shrugged. He couldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do. 

“You know,” Sam said in an effort to dissipate the tension, “for the first time in a long time, it feels like we're gonna win.”

He smiled when you looked up at him. 

“Yeah, well, no dancing in the end zone until we're finished,” you said.

“What's the good father's playbook say now?” Dean said as he placed the lid back onto the jar he was holding and put it in the boot. 

“Well ... now that we got the consecrated ground, I just, uh …” you placed a hand over your mouth and let out a cough, “I slip Crowley one dose of blood every hour for eight hours and seal the deal with a bloody-fist sandwich. That should do it.”

Dean nodded and took a step closer to you. “Your blood's supposed to be purified, isn't it? You ever, uh -- you ever done the "forgive me, father" before?”

You ran a hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “No. Not really. But, uh … my grandparents’ priest tried to make me ‘confess my sins’ once. It was pretty messed up. Never really got over it.”

Sam’s eyes dropped to the ground and his hands flexed in distress at your confession. Dean could only think about whether you’d ever met someone who hadn’t hurt you. He was ashamed to admit he couldn’t think of anyone. Not even he or Sam. 

“I think I know what I’m gonna say, though,” you said as you finished packing a duffel bag with all the materials you’d need. 

“Yeah? What’s that?” Sam said.

You hiked the duffel bag onto your shoulder and said, “I think I’ll start with my parents. From there it won’t be too hard to list all my screw ups, right?” 

You turned away and walked towards the church. Dean tried to follow with words of comfort or … something – anything. Yeah, anything was better than letting you believe what you’d just said. 

Sam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t, Dean.”

Dean turned to him with another helpless look. “She can’t be serious, right? Sam?” Sam looked away and scratched the back of his neck. “Sam, what her parents did … she never did anything wrong.”

“I know,” Sam said. “I know that. But I don’t think she’s ever gonna truly believe it. Besides, I don’t think that’s what she was talking about.”

“Then what?” Dean snapped.

“I think she’s going to confess about what happened to her parents after she was institutionalised,” Sam said. 

Dean’s brows furrowed as he took a step closer to his brother. “You mean to tell me she feels guilty over her parents’ death?”

“This is Y/N we’re talking about, Dean,” Sam said. “What doesn’t she feel guilty about?”

Dean opened his mouth to reply but was startled when Castiel suddenly appeared. “Guys, I need your help.”

Dean sighed and sat on the edge of the boot. “Little busy, Cas. Take a number.”

“I'm afraid this can't wait,” Cas said. “Naomi has taken Metatron.”

“Wait a minute,” Sam said. “How do you know Metatron?”

“I've been working with him on the Angel trials.”

“The what?” Dean said as he tucked his hands into his coat pockets.

“We're gonna shut it all down -- Heaven, Hell, all of it,” Cas said. At the blank stares he received from the brothers, Cas sighed and proceeded to tell them Metatron’s plan about shutting the angels into heaven and having a good old family meeting. 

“Metatron, the guy who was full-on crazy, cat-lady-hoarder angel yesterday -- now he wants to save Heaven?” Dean said.

“Yes, he wants to. But I'm the only one who can. I can't fail, Dean, not on this one. I need your help. Both of you.”

Dean shook his head and stood up. “Look, Cas, that's all well and good, okay, but you're asking us to leave Y/N, and we've got Crowley in there tied and trussed. Now, if anybody needs a chaperone while doing the heavy lifting, it's Y/N.”

“You should go.”

Dean closed his eyes at the sound of your voice. He didn’t have to turn around and look at you to know how you’d interpreted what he’d just said. 

He and Sam turned to look at you.

“Seriously,” you said.

“Oh, what, and leave you here with the King of Hell?” Dean said. “Come on.”

“I got this. And if you guys can lock the angels up, too ... that's a good day.”

“Look,” Sam said, “we’re ... we’re down with sending the angels back to Heaven, just 'cause they're dicks. But the Demons? This is on us.”

“Sam’s right,” Dean said. “Start the injections now. If we’re not back in eight hours, finish it, no questions, no hesitation.”

You nodded and turned to walk away. 

“We shouldn’t leave it like this,” Sam said. Dean looked at him. “What if … what if the worst happens. I can’t – I can’t leave her like this, Dean.”

“No time,” Cas said. His hands were on Sam and Dean’s shoulders and they were gone before Dean got a chance to agree.

****

The injection was painful. Ever since the trials started your nerves had ramped up a thousand volts, so putting a needle into your skin and extracting blood felt like cutting your entire wrist open. You would know. 

“You really think injecting me with human blood is gonna make me human?” Crowley said as you approached him with the syringe. “Did you read that on the back of a cereal box?” 

You said nothing and he shouted as you pushed his head to the side and injected him (none too gently) with your blood.

He chuckled and rotated his head when nothing happened immediately. “You're miles out of your league, Kitten.” You turned away from him and headed back to the altar where you kept the duffel bag. “See you in an hour.”

Just as you reached the altar and put the syringe down, you clenched your teeth in pain and watched as your arms lit up like they did when you completed a trial, only that time it wasn’t as bright or intense. 

The second injection had been a more painful ordeal. Not because of the needle, but because Crowley had resorted to biting. 

The moment you’d injected him with the second dose, he gripped your forearm in his hands and sank his teeth into your wrist. 

“What the hell, Crowley?” you snapped. Without thought, you landed a punch across his jaw. “Biting?! Seriously?!” If you hadn’t been so pissed off and in pain, you might have been surprised that for once you didn’t guilty about what you were doing to him.

Crowley didn’t say anything as he looked up at you. He didn’t even look guilty. With one last frustrated sound, you stomped past him and out of the church with the intention of bandaging up your arm.

It was by the sixth injection that things really began going awry, however. You were leaning against the altar in pain as your arms lit up orange again. Crowley was unusually cocky behind you but you couldn’t tell if it was because of the injections or he just had something up his sleeve you didn’t know about. 

“How we doing, kitten? Ain't it about time for the next love injection?” He began singing then, an old song that you had never really liked.

You turned to shut him up with another injection but paused the moment the room began to shake. Crowley didn’t seem surprised so you were guessing his cockiness was indeed because he had something up his sleeve. 

The floorboards by the church doors began to crack and splinter until they reached the demon trap and penetrated its edge. Now the only thing holding Crowley down was the manacles. 

Crowley turned his eyes to you. “Did you really think you could kidnap the King of Hell and no one was gonna notice?”

You pressed your lips together and looked to the doors just as they burst open. 

You were prepared for a barrage of demons but something much worse came through those doors. 

“Hello, Kitten,” Abaddon said with a smile.

Crowley frowned and tried to look over his shoulder. “That's my line. Abaddon? They told me you were dead.”

“So not,” Abaddon said. It unsettled you that her eyes kept following you. 

Crowley turned back to look at you. “And the rest of the cavalry?”

“Oh, no, it's just little, old, unkillable me.”

A glint of silver reached the corner of your eyes and you turned to snatch the gun from the altar. It went flying across the room before you could get your grip around it. 

“Brilliant,” Crowley said. “Why send in a few grunts when you can send in a knight? Listen, try not to hurt the poor girl. She’s been led astray is all.”

“Believe me,” Abaddon said, “hurting her is the last thing I want.” She squeezed her outstretched hand into a fist and you found yourself being forced to your knees. 

“That'll do,” Crowley said as he watched you struggle. “Undo these. I can deal with her myself.”

You never got a chance to see what Abaddon had to say to that. One second you were on your knees, the next you were flying through the church window and hitting the ground with a roll. 

Despite the toll it had taken on your body, throwing you out the window was the best thing Abaddon could have done. Thankfully, Dean had filled up several jars of holy water and you’d managed to dig up a box of matches from the boot of the Impala when you recovered.

Sneaking back into the church, you discovered Abaddon with her back to you and Crowley still strapped to the chair on his side. He looked out cold. Or like he would be soon.   
Guess you weren’t the only one who’d been having a little trouble in paradise. 

Abaddon turned, presumably to go deal with you, but when she did she got a face full of holy oil.

You struck the match. “I love the suit,” you said. Then you threw the match on her and stepped back as her vessel burst into flames. She screamed and thrashed about before finally leaving her vessel completely and exiting the church in a swirl of black smoke.

You wasted no more time. Abaddon or anyone else could have been back at any moment but you couldn’t move Crowley anywhere else. So you hoisted his chair back into an upright position.

“You did good back there, Kitten,” he said as you walked back over to the duffel bag to look for the spray paint. “I'll deny it if you ever quote me, but I'm a proud man. I'm proud of you.”

You chuckled and shook the spray can when you found it. “Thanks.”

“Hold on. Uh, w-what's that?” Crowley said as he eyed the spray can.

“It's what it looks like,” you said. You moved behind his chair and repainted the trap, using a small piece of wood to link the edges that had been separated. 

“Are you joking? I just saved your life,” he said as you moved back to the duffel bag.

You laughed. “Seriously?”

“Seriously? Me, seriously? We just shared a foxhole, you and I. We beat back the Tet Offensive, outrun the --the Rape of Nanking together! And still, you're gonna do me like this?!” You frowned at him and picked up the next syringe as you put the spray can down. Once you made your way back over to him and gave him the injection, you took a step back and listened as he slipped into an American accent and cried, “Band of Brothers? The Pacific? None of this means anything to you? All those motels, you never once watched HBO, not once? Girls? You're my Marnie, Kitten. A-and Hannah -- she just --she needs to be loved. She deserves it. Don't we all -- you, me -- we deserve to be loved. I deserve to be loved! I just want to be loved.”

Your frown deepened as you listened to his American ramblings. “What?” you said when he finished. 

He snapped his mouth shut and seemed as confused as you over what he’d just said. 

You shook your head and rubbed your fingers over your eyes. “Look, Crowley, remember what I told you at that auction? When you first told me how you felt?” He nodded slightly but said nothing. “Remember I told you that no matter what happened there would still be a part of me that always loved you? I wasn’t lying about that. I’m doing this for you, too. Believe it or not. If you’re not a demon, you won’t get locked away.”

You waited for him to say something – anything, really. He didn’t. 

You rolled your eyes and went back to the altar to wait. The next hour seemed to go by so slowly and you were beginning to feel more and more drained from blood loss. You’d had to switch arms because it had become too painful to keep taking blood from your left one. 

“Would it be possible, Kitten,” Crowley said as you stood and began drawing out your seventh syringe of blood, “I'd like ... to ask you a-a favour, Y/N. Earlier, when you were confessing back there ... what did you say?” 

You pressed your lips together and looked away from him. That wasn’t information you were willing to divulge to anyone. You weren’t even sure you could tell Sam and Dean what you’d said. 

“I only ask,” Crowley continued as you moved towards him with the syringe, “because, given my history...it raises the question ... where do I start … to even look for forgiveness? I mean ...”

You lifted the syringe. “How about we start with this?”

You didn’t necessarily expect it but you weren’t surprised when Crowley tilted his head to the side and submitted to the injection. Rather than pain, he seemed content with it.  
Dean and Sam finally showed up just before you finished the trial. 

You’d given Crowley the last injection and chanted the exorcism. You pulled a knife from the back of your pants and sliced open your palm. As soon as the blood welled up, your hands took on that orange glow again, only this time it didn’t go away. It began burning through your veins the longer you held it. 

You walked towards Crowley. He sat there, as placid as he’d ever been, and waited for you to do what you had to.

Then the brothers stopped you.

They burst through the doors, called your name and yelled for you to stop. You frowned at them but paused your movements.

Dean’s eyes dropped to your hands and you watched his face pale when he realised how close you were to finishing. 

He held his hands up and took slow steps towards you. “Easy there. Okay. Just take it easy. We got a slight change of plan.”

“What? What's going on? Where's Cas?!” you said.

“Metatron lied,” Sam said. “You finish this trial, you're dead, Y/N.”

Your brows furrowed as you glanced about the church. You thought about everything you would leave behind if you died just then. 

You realised you would leave behind nothing. 

Your best friend was dead. Cas was going back to heaven permanently. Crowley would have his hands full being a human. You rarely saw Charlie and Kevin tolerated you at best.  
And the Winchesters? Well, they’d said it themselves. ‘High maintenance’ were the words Sam had used. You were becoming more trouble than you were worth.  
You looked back at them. They looked right back at you as though you were a bomb about to go off. 

You shook your head. “So?”

Dean’s head snapped back and Sam’s mouth fell open. They shared a look.

“Look at him,” you continued. You stepped away from Crowley and closer to the brothers. It was all you could do to stay on your feet as the burning sensation spread up to your shoulders and intensified. “Look at him! Look how close we are! Other people will die if I don't finish this!”

“Think about it,” Dean said as he took a step forward. He kept his voice calm. The last thing you needed was to hear his fear. “Think about what we know, huh? Pulling souls from hell, curing demons, hell, ganking a Hellhound! We have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide here. But we can't do it without you.”

You frowned and shook your head, almost letting out a disbelieving laugh. “You can barely do it with me. You think I need a chaperone, remember? And, Sammy – Sammy thinks I’m high maintenance.”

“Come on, Y/N. That's not what I meant,” Sam said. 

“No, it's exactly what you meant,” you forced out as tears welled up. “You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you two down. And I don’t mean on hunts. I mean ‘me’. I am far from the woman you fell in love with.”

Dean closed his eyes at the pain in your voice. “Y/N –”

“What happens the next time I go off the deep end?” The tears fell down your cheeks and you forced yourself not to look at Sam and his puppy dog eyes. Dean had always been the easiest to fight with. “I mean, how many times can you walk in on my half-dead body before you just decide to give up? Because I can’t promise it won’t happen again. And how many bad days can you go through, Sammy? ‘Cause on my good days … it’s amazing. But the bad days … I see the way you look at me on those days. You look at me like I’m a ghost. Or – or a disease. You walk on egg shells. Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch you two just –

“Hold on, hold on!” Dean growled. He looked at you, and for a brief moment, you had the odd thought that Dean’s puppy dog eyes were just as heart wrenching as Sam’s. You never knew he could look like that. 

“You seriously think that?” Dean said. “Because none of it -- none of it -- is true. Listen, Y/N, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels. But, baby ... come on. I killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, you could ever do that would make me fall out of love with you. It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you.”

The sobs forced their way up your throat. Of its own volition, your hand tipped and you watched as the blood spilled from it. You looked down at Crowley but he was too drained to even lift his head.

What were you doing? 

You wanted to believe that Dean didn’t really mean what he was saying. That it was just his white knight syndrome striding in to stop you from sacrificing yourself. But Dean wasn’t a white knight. He’d let more important people than you die for the cause. And yet he wasn’t willing to let you go. Not even if it meant ridding the world of an entire species of monster. 

“I don’t know how to stop,” you sobbed. 

Relief filled Dean’s face and Sam rushed to your side to move you further away from Crowley and temptation.

“Just let it go,” Sam said in your ear as he gripped your forearm and held your wounded hand out for Dean to wrap a bandana around it. 

“I can't,” you said with a sniff. “It's in me, Sammy. You don't know what this feels like.”

“Hey, listen, we will figure it out, okay, just like we always do,” Dean said. His voice was gentle and his eyes were filled with adoration as he smiled down at you. He pulled you into his body and squeezed you in a tight hug. “Come on. Let it go, okay? Let it go, baby,” he murmured into your hair. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to do what he said. You breathed deeply and tried to force down the burning sensation in your arms. Imagined water dousing the fire in your veins. 

You pulled back when the feeling faded away. 

“See?” Dean said with a grin as he watched the orange light fade from your arms. 

You looked to Sam with a smile. Just as he smiled back the pain started. It was worse than when you completed the trials. You screamed in pain as you fell to the floor. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and your muscles kept giving way every time you tried to move them. 

You heard someone call out your name but couldn’t concentrate on the voice as sharp pains throbbed through your head. Your vision went spotty and next thing you knew you were being half-carried, half-dragged out of the church. 

“We got you, baby. You're gonna be just fine.”

Your feet fell out from under you again and you slid in the mud. You couldn’t remember when it started raining. All you could feel was the cold metal of the Impala at your back and the burn of your lungs as you struggled to drag air into them. 

“Y/N, Y/N?” Sam said. 

“Cas?!” Dean yelled as your wheezing became more severe. “Castiel?! Where the hell are you?”

He looked back down at you when you cried out again. Sam sat next to you and pulled you into his side as you whimpered and groaned. 

“Come on, baby,” Dean begged. “You gotta hang in there for me.”

Your wheezing stopped but your agonised cries increased as you writhed against Sam. Dean looked up as the wind started picking up and lights began appearing in the sky. 

“No, Cas,” Dean said as he watched the lights fall closer to the ground. The stubborn angel had done exactly what Dean had told him not to do. He believed what Metatron had told him. 

One of the lights fell into the lake by the church. Shooting up a shower of water that made you jump in fright.

“What's happening?” you ground out.

“Angels,” Sam said. “They're falling.”


	31. I Think I'm Gonna Like This Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giving up on the trials hadn't given you the results that you or the brothers had hoped for. While you're laid up in the hospital, Sam and Dean fight tooth and nail to save your life. What they don't realise is the choice is up to you, and you're not looking to make the decision they want for you.

You sat in the front seat of the Impala feeling as healthy as you ever had. Leaving the church had been a blur, and there wasn’t much that you remembered after you’d collapsed in pain. Then suddenly you just woke up in the Impala feeling right as rain.

You were scrolling through local breaking news sites to see what people were saying about the angels falling – which, Dean so politely informed you, happened to be Cas’s doing. 

“This makes no sense,” you said. “I mean, how many angels fell – hundreds, thousands? And nobody sees anything. This is ... look at this. They're calling it a meteor shower. Seriously?” You looked at Dean for a response but he sat stony-faced in the driver’s seat. His knuckles were white from the force of his grip on the wheel. “What's going on, Dean? You okay?”

He glanced at you. “Me? Yeah. I'm fine. It's just –”

“It's just we got a major freakin' crap fest on our hands. Yeah, tell me about it,” you scoffed. “Thousands of superpowered dicks touching down, and we got no idea where to start.”

“Angels aren't our problem right now, okay?” Dean growled. “Or demons, or Metatron, or whatever the hell happened to Cas.”

You gave him a confused smile. “Why? Because we hugged it out in that church and – and now we're gonna go to Disneyland? Dean, you said it yourself – we're not gonna sleep till this is done.”

“I know.”

You shrugged. “So, what's the problem?” You frowned and glanced into the backseat. An uneasy feeling settled over you. “And where the hell is Sammy?”

“You’re the problem,” Dean said. “Look, there's no easy way to say this, okay? But something happened back there in the church. And I don't know what. I don't know why. You're dying, Y/N.”

Your heart suddenly sounded too loud and the uneasy feeling turned to nausea. You shifted in your seat. “Shut up.”

****

Sam had never felt so terrified in his life. You’d died once before and that had destroyed Sam. But now you were laid up in a hospital bed barely holding on. Somehow it seemed more real – rawer – than the last time. This time he had a body to mourn over and not a memory. 

It was the worst kind of pain. 

“The MRI shows massive internal burns affecting many of the major organs,” the doctor said. Dean turned from the brain scans to look at him. “Oxygen to the brain has been severely deprived. The coma is the result of the body doing everything in its limited power to protect itself from further harm.”

“This wasn't supposed to happen,” Dean muttered as he dragged his feet over to the end of your bed and looked down at you.

“If your … wife continues on this trajectory, the machines might keep her alive, but –”

“She’ll be dead,” Sam said. 

The doctor gave him a sympathetic look. “Technically, yes. I'm afraid so.”

Dean looked at him and Sam watched in pain as his brother’s bottom lip quivered and his eyes filled with tears. 

“So, there's – there's no recovery?” Dean said. “I mean, there's no bounce-back. There's no nothing.”

The doctor pressed his lips together. “I'm afraid that's in God's hands now.”

Anger bloomed in Sam’s chest at those words but he pushed it down, knowing that it wasn’t the doctor’s fault – he was only trying to offer comfort and help.

Dean, on the other hand, had no such control. When it came to you, Dean’s self-control was near non-existent. And if you were in danger? Well, Sam felt sorry for whoever got in the way. 

“You're a doctor,” Dean growled, his lip lifting in a sneer. “You're a medical professional. You're trying to tell me that my wife's life is in God's hands? What, is that supposed to be a – a comfort?”

The doctor lifted his hands to try and calm Dean. “Mr. Dougherty –”

“No, God has nothing to do with this equation at all.”

“I didn't mean –”

“That's not good enough,” Dean snapped. Without waiting for another response, he stormed out of the hospital room.

The doctor gave Sam an apologetic look. 

“It’s okay, doc,” Sam said. “My brother, he’s just … this is a hard time for us. He’s not ready to let her go. Neither of us are.”

The doctor nodded. “I understand. No one is ever ready. Especially when the person passing is so young. And … so loved.” 

Sam nodded his thanks and sat in the chair by your side when the doctor left. He lifted your hand to his lips and closed his eyes. He was never one for praying, especially now that he knew what he did, but he prayed for a miracle that day. 

****

Dean collapsed down into one of the pews in the hospital chapel. He was weary and beaten. Sorrow squeezed around his heart like a vice as he linked his hands together and bent his head down over them. All he could hear was your pained cries. And all he could see was your body laid out in a hospital bed. So still. So quiet. 

You had never been a still or quiet person. It unnerved him to see you that way. You had always been loud and filled with fire. So very present and in your face. 

No one ever walked into a room and didn’t notice you. Your very existence screamed for attention. Screamed to be heard. 

Dean loved that about you. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and held onto that memory of you. The memory of the fiery woman who knew how to push every single one of his buttons. The woman that could bring him to his knees with a single look. 

“Cas, are you there?” Dean prayed. “Y/N's hurt. She's hurt, uh – She's hurt pretty bad. And, um... I know you think that I'm pissed at you, okay? But I don't care that the angels fell. So whatever you did or didn't do, it doesn't matter, okay? We'll work it out. Please, man, I need you here. Y/N needs you here. You can’t let her go out like this. Not now. I know you love her. So please, just …” 

Dean lifted his head with a heavy sigh. He was out of words to express how he felt. How much he needed Cas to be there – to perform a miracle. 

None of it worked. He thought for sure Cas would show up if he knew you were dying but when he didn’t, Dean’s resolve hardened. Now was the time to put everything on the line. Risk everyone’s lives just to save yours.

He bowed his head again. “Screw it. Okay, listen up. This one goes out to any angel with their ears on. This is Dean Winchester ... and I need your help. The deal is this – Linwood Memorial Hospital, Randolph, New York. The first one who can help me gets my help in return and you know that ain’t nothin’. Hell, it’s no secret that we haven’t always seen eye to eye. But you know that I am good for my word. And, uh, I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t needing, so …” 

He trailed off again as he felt a sob try to force its way out. His tears finally fell and he buried his face in his hands. Hoping against all hope that someone was listening to him. That this wasn’t the end for you. Because if it was the end for you, then it was the end for him too. 

Dean had gotten on just fine. He’d been content with his life. Then you turned up and shook his entire world upside down. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without you in it but he knew it wasn’t one he wanted to live. 

****

“Look, just because you're dying doesn't mean you're dead – not yet, okay?” Dean said as you stared at him. 

You were dumbfounded, to say the least. He was screwing with you. He had to be. There was no way you were dead. You would know if you were, right? Everything felt the same. It smelled the same. Even Dean was … Dean. Right down to the scowl on his face when you tried not to laugh at him. The only thing that was odd was that Sam wasn’t there. But every time you thought about that you got queasy. 

“We've jimmied ourselves out of worse,” Dean said. “We're gonna fight this. I got the plan. You just got to hang on. You hear me?”

“Absolutely,” you said.

He glanced at you. “You think I'm lying?”

You breathed out a short laugh. “Pretty much, yeah.”

He rolled his eyes and growled, “You understand that we're not really in this car right now. We are in your head, and you're in a coma and are dying.”

You breathed out a sigh. There was one thing that was off about Dean. First, he wouldn’t mess with you like this. Second, he wasn’t squeezing you too him like a crazy person. After what happened at the church, his protective instincts should have gone into overdrive. He should have been more affectionate and clingy than a dog to its owner. But he wasn’t. He just sat there like it was any normal day. 

“How do you know that?” you said.

“Because I'm you and you're you. All of this is you,” Dean said. “We're in your head!”

“You’re serious.” Dean gave you an exasperated look. You shook your head. “The whole reason I stopped doing the trials was not to die.”

Dean nodded. “And the next time we see Naomi or Metatron or whoever is to blame for this, we will get some justice, but for right now, we got to fight this, baby.”

You nodded. If Dean was right, then taking the time to wrap your head around the situation was not an option. “Okay. All right, what's the plan?”

Dean gave you a sidelong look and shifted in his seat. “I'm working on it.”

You frowned. “What does that mean? I'm kind of dying here, apparently.”

“It means I'm working on it, all right?”

You shifted until you were facing him with a knee up on the seat. “The thing is if I am dying – and I believe you. I do. But if you're you but you're really me and you're the part of me that wants to fight to live ...”

Dean nodded. “Yes. I have no idea what you just said, but continue.”

“But if you don't have any idea how I'm supposed to fight, then am I supposed to be fighting at all?”

Dean gave you a hard look. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, Dean. She’s serious.”

You jumped at the sound of Sam’s voice. One minute there was no sign of him and the next he was in the backseat. 

“And if you ask me,” he continued, “I think she’s got a good point.”

Dean glanced back at him with a disbelieving look. “Y/N wants to die, and you think she’s got a point? What the hell’s wrong with you man?”

“Okay,” you said, “I don't want to die. I asked if maybe I was supposed to –”

“Shut it, Y/N,” Dean growled. He glanced back at Sam again. “You – go. Oh, and, uh, before you throw me under the bus, you're welcome for pretty much everything I’ve ever done for you. Damn, traitor.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “First of all, you’re not the only one in this car who’s put everything on the line for me. Secondly, Y/N, you’re in a coma. It sucks, I know, but sometimes that’s just how things are.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean snapped. “There's always a way. You know that.”

“Like the way we always end up doing stupid stuff to beat death. Like when you sold your soul?”

“Exactly like selling my soul.”

Sam scoffed and you rubbed your fingers against your temple. You’d hoped that in death you wouldn’t have to listen to them bicker. Guess they couldn’t even get along in the afterlife. 

“Yeah, because that worked out so well last time,” Sam said.

Dean growled in frustration and threw up a dismissive hand. 

“Enough! Both of you!” you snapped. “I can't hear myself think!”

They fell silent for a moment and Dean looked at you. “You're not actually buying this, are you?” he growled as he jerked his thumb back towards Sam. 

You sighed when Sam took the bait.

“I’m sorry, have you ever wanted to stay dead before?” Sam snapped. “Because I have. Maybe I'm here because I'm the part of Y/N that actually knows what the hell it’s talking about.”

“Well, I'm in the front seat because Y/N put me here because she wants to fight,” Dean snapped back. He looked at you. “Right?”

Sam appeared in the front seat between you and Dean before you got a chance to answer. If you’d had any doubt in your mind before, you didn’t now. 

“Right, well, bye, Dean,” Sam said.

Dean’s eyes shot towards you just as Sam put his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, don't you dare –”

You were in a forest. It was the middle of the day and neither Dean nor the Impala was anywhere in sight.

“He just doesn’t know when to shut up,” Sam muttered. 

You looked up at him. “Sammy, I – I don't know what's right.”

He pressed his lips together as he looked down at you. 

“Come on,” he said as he pulled you into his side. 

****

Dean leaned against the window frame in your hospital room as he watched you and Sam. His heart broke for his brother’s pain – even more so because Dean felt the same pain. 

He kept waiting for you to wake up. He just wanted to see your eyes open. He wanted to see you smile again. Hell, he’d be happy just to hear you chew his ass out for doing something stupid. 

But all he could do was stand there and listen to Sam tell you stories. Stories of your life with the boys. He told you the story of how you met in the mental health institute. About how you used to call him Tiny and sneak Caesar salad wraps in for him. He talked about how you and Dean didn’t get along in the beginning, and that even though Dean had acted like you were the bane of his existence, Sam could tell that he secretly liked you. That he’d wished he could have you the way Sam had you. He told you about the time he and Dean first discussed sharing you. The first time he’d kissed you. Made love to you. Said ‘I love you’. He even talked and laughed about the time Garth had walked in on you and Sam together when he was sure you were with Dean. 

At first, Dean didn’t understand it. He couldn’t figure out why Sam would retell all those memories when all it brought was pain. Dean’s face was tear-stained, and so was Sam’s. So why would Sam put himself through that? 

Then he realised. All Dean had to do was look at you and remember the first time he’d met you, and he realised. No matter how painful the memories seemed. No matter how much they made him cry. He realised, he’d much rather go through the pain of remembering his best moments with you, than to not remember you at all. Because you were worth the suffering that he felt. 

“Dean.”

Dean drew in a deep breath as the sound of Sam’s voice pulled him from his own memories of you. It hurt but he managed to drag his eyes from you and look at his brother. 

Sam was standing by your bed now. The woman he was looking at had a patient smile.

Dean pushed off the window frame and surged forward. “I'm just gonna break the ice. Are you an angel?”

The woman let out a shocked chuckle. “Sometimes I wish I were. My name is Kim Schortz, and I'm a grief counsellor here at the hospital.”

Dean’s heart sank and the brief hope he’d just had shrivelled back up. He saw Sam’s face fall as he leaned against your bed, his hand automatically sought out yours in comfort. Except Dean knew there was no comfort in holding your lifeless hand. The comfort only came when you squeezed back and whispered reassuring words. You were always good at saying the right thing just when they needed it. 

“Right,” Sam said. “Yeah. Uh ... sorry. We’re just tired. All due respect, but, uh, we’re not grieving – not yet anyway.”

Kim nodded her head. Suddenly her patient look didn’t feel so calming. In fact, it only seemed to spark Dean’s anger back up. He tried to keep a lid on it. He felt guilty for blowing up earlier in front of you, and even though you probably couldn’t hear it, he still knew you wouldn’t want him to get upset and yell at people who didn’t deserve it.

“I'm afraid, as hard as this may be, this might be a good time to talk ... about the inevitable,” Kim said. 

“Look, I'm sure you're a nice person and that you mean well, but ‘inevitable’ – that's a fightin' word where I come from. There's always a way,” Dean said.

Kim pressed her lips together. Her patience irked Sam. He didn’t blame her but it made him mourn for you all the same. You weren’t a patient person. You never had been. Your temper was bad and you had a short fuse. Patience wasn’t in your vocabulary. And whilst some of the time it bothered him and reminded him of Dean. Just then, he wanted nothing more than to see you awake and rolling your eyes in impatience. 

“And I am a prayerful woman who believes in miracles as much as the next,” Kim said, “but I also know how to read an EEG. And unless you're telling me you have a direct line to those angels that you were looking for –”

“Yeah, no, uh ... guess we don't,” Sam said. He looked to Dean as a thought occurred to him. “But we might have something better. We got the King of Hell in the trunk.”

Without a word of explanation, Sam and Dean all but ran out of the room. 

****

Sam grimaced and rubbed his shoulder as Dean lit up the ring of holy oil surrounding the angel they’d caught. 

When they’d headed down to the Impala they’d been ambushed by a few angels, another one had shown up and saved then. Then he offered his help before passing out. 

Sam and Dean didn’t chance it. While he was unconscious, they both poured a ring of holy oil around him. 

He came to just as Dean reached Sam’s side. 

“You want to help?” Sam said. “Start with a name.”

The angel stayed kneeling on the ground as he looked around at the ring of holy fire. “Ezekiel.”

“All right, Ezekiel. How do I know you're not hunting us or Castiel like the other angels?” Dean said.

“Oh, I'm sure there are many angels who are,” Ezekiel said. “Many more are on their way here, most likely.”

“How do you know that?” Sam said.

“You put out an open prayer like that ...” 

“I must really be desperate,” Dean said.

Ezekiel got to his feet. “Believe it or not, some of us still do believe in our mission. And that means we believe in Castiel ... and you.”

“You said you were hurt during the fall,” Sam said.

“I was. Entangling with my brother back there did me no favours. But what strength I have left, I offer to you.”

Sam and Dean shared a look. Neither of them had to say anything to know they were both desperate enough to trust your life in the hands of a stranger. 

****

Sam’s hand was warm in yours as the two of you walked through the forest. “I want to fight,” you said. “I do. But I just feel like ...”

“Like there’s nothing to fight against? Like there’s no way out?” Sam said. He gave you a soft smile and you nodded. “You’ve got to let go of fighting, and – and looking for loopholes. It’s just not going to happen, Y/N.”

“So – so, what? I - I - I just die?” 

“Just die?” Sam laughed. “All the good you've done, all the people you've saved, all the sacrifices you've made? You've saved the world, Y/N. How many people can say that? How many people can say that they – they left … Earth that much a better place? And me and Dean? You’ve saved us over and over again. And I don’t just mean saving our lives. I mean us. Our souls … so to speak. What you call dying … I’d call it a legacy.”

It was hard to argue against that. But no matter how he put it, were you ready to die? You’d tried to take your own life before. You thought about ending it almost every day at one point. But after meeting the Winchester’s … you thought about it less and less. 

Could you leave them? 

But then, would you really be leaving them? If what Sam and Dean had told you was true, then your heaven would have them there. 

Sam and Dean would be waiting for you. There would be none of the drama. None of the depression or PTSD to put pressure on the relationship.

It would just be you and them. No fighting to save the world. No fighting to save yourself. 

Just a happy ending. 

****

Dean’s hands grew clammy and Sam kept clenching and unclenching his own as the two of them watched Ezekiel place a hand on your chest.

“You still able to cure things after the fall?” Sam said.

“Yes, I should be,” Ezekiel said, “but ... she's so weak.”

The sound of Dean’s phone split through the tension in the room. He answered immediately.

“Who is this?” he said.

“Dean.”

His body sagged in relief at the sound of Cas’s voice. He gestured for Sam to stay with you as he went out into the corridor. 

“Cas, what the hell's going on?”

“Metatron tricked me,” Cas said. “It wasn't angel trials. It was a spell. I wanted you to know that.”

“Okay. That's great, but we've got ourselves a problem.”

“What's wrong?”

“It’s Y/N,” Dean felt his voice catch and had to take a moment before he could finish. “She's, um – they say she's dying.”

“What?!” 

Cas’s frantic and fearful voice had Dean’s mind going back to the night he’d left Cas in the bunker after a fight. He remembered the way Cas hugged you. That was the first time he thought that maybe Cas’s feelings towards you had changed. The angel’s uncharacteristic ‘freak-out’ only added to those suspicions but now wasn’t the time to get angry about it. 

“What happened?” Cas said when Dean didn’t answer immediately. “What are you doing to help her?”

“I don't know,” Dean growled. “I mean, first she was okay, and then she wasn't. And I – have you heard my prayers? I've been praying to you all night.”

“Dean, Metatron – he – he took my grace.”

“What?”

“Don't worry about me,” Cas said. “What are you doing for Y/N?”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face as he tried to think. “Uh, everything I can. There's actually another angel in there working on her right now.”

“What other angel?”

“Um, his name is Ezekiel. He's cool. I mean, I think he is.”

Cas was silent for a moment before saying, “Ezekiel. Yes. He's a good soldier. He should be able to help until I get there.”

“Wait, no, no, no. No, hey, that's not an option,” Dean said. 

He fell quiet as a nurse passed by and Cas used that opportunity to say, “It might be a few days, but –”

“Hey, Cas, listen to me. There are angels out there, okay? And they – they're looking for you, and they're pissed.”

“Not all of them, Dean. Some are just looking for direction. Some are just lost.”

Dean frowned and scratched at his jaw. “What are you talking about?”

 

“I met one,” Cas said. “I think I can help her, Dean.”

“No, Cas, I know you want to help, okay?” Dean said. “I do, but helping angels is what got you in trouble in the first place. Now, I'm begging you – for once, look out for yourself. Until we figure out what the hell is going on, trust nobody.”

“And do what? Just abandon them all?”

“Damn it, Cas. You hearing yourself? There's a war on, and it's on you. There's thousands of them out – you said you lost your grace, right? That means you're human. That means you bleed and you eat and you sleep and all the things you never had to worry about before.”

Cas sighed. “I'm fine, Dean.”

Before Dean could argue there was a rumble in the hospital and the pictures on the walls began to shake and fall down. 

“Whoa.”

“What's going on?” Cas said.

“I think we got more company. Look, get your ass to the bunker alone. You hear me? I promise I’ll keep you updated on Y/N.”

“Dean.”

“Go, Cas!”

He hung up before Cas could argue anymore and rushed straight back into your room. Sam was standing guard over you and watching Ezekiel like a hawk. Dean felt grateful that he wasn’t alone in this. He wondered how Sam had managed to go through your death alone after the Leviathan’s fell, then his attention snapped back to you and Ezekiel.

“One of yours?” he said to the angel.

“Trying to secure a vessel,” Ezekiel said. “We need to move.”

“No, no. If we move her, she dies,” Dean said. Panic began to settle in his gut. 

“If we stay, we could all die,” Ezekiel said. 

Sam chewed on his lip as he looked about the room. “Dean,” he said when he spotted a set of markers. He rushed towards them with Dean following behind. He didn’t need to ask to know what Sam’s plan was, he just went straight ahead and began drawing Enochian symbols on the walls. 

Once the last one had been drawn on the back of the door, Dean turned back to Ezekiel. “Long as these are up, no angels are coming in. No one's coming out. You gonna be okay with these?”

Ezekiel drew in a deep breath and the brothers could already see that he was weakened by the symbols. 

“I'll manage,” the angel said. He tilted his head to the side then, as though he were listening. 

“What?” Sam said. 

Ezekiel looked at him. “They're here.”

Dean nodded and headed towards the door. “Okay. Do not open this door for anybody but us.” He pointed to you. “Save her, you hear me? That’s priority.”

****

You and Sam came to a halt at the end of the path you’d been walking on. There sat an old cabin. 

“There it is,” Sam said.

You took a few steps forward and frowned. The place didn’t look familiar to you. You weren’t sure what Sam was expecting, so you turned back to him. 

“Everything you need to help you crossover is inside,” he said as he nodded towards the cabin. He smiled. “Go on. You’ll see me and Dean waiting on the other side.

You frowned and shook your head. “But … but they won’t really be you.”

He tucked his hands into his pockets as his smile turned to a grin. “Yes, they will. They’ll be exactly as you remember us. Bickering and all.”

You opened your mouth to speak, you still had so many questions. So many doubts. 

You never got a chance to voice them. 

Sam’s body jerked and blood spilled from his mouth. He looked down and you followed his gaze to see the tip of a knife protruding from his chest. You cried out as he fell to the ground dead. You took a step towards him, hands out, but stopped when his body vanished. 

You looked up to see Dean standing there. 

You kept telling yourself it wasn’t real. That Sam wasn’t dead and Dean hadn’t just been the one to kill him. They were safe and sound out there. This was just all in your head.

But that didn’t mean it hurt any less. 

“Sorry, little brother,” Dean said as he looked down at the spot where Sam had been lying. 

“Dean, are you insane?!” you snapped.

He looked back up at you and frowned. “Come on, baby. Sammy was the part of you that wants to die. I know it stings, but he had to go.”

“No,” you growled as you strode towards him. “No. You have to go. When are you gonna realize it's over?! There's nothing to fight for!”

“No, see, I know you don't believe that.”

“Really? Then what's your plan, Dean?”

“My plan?” Dean said. “My plan is to fight! My plan is to try! My plan is to give a damn! Are you telling me there's nothing? Huh? You telling me there's nothing to fight for, that there's nothing to hope for?!”

“No. I'm telling you there is,” you said. “You might not like it. You might not accept it, but it's in there.” You pointed back towards the cabin. “It's in that house.”

“You know what's in that house!’ Dean said. His voice was frantic now. He was scared – or you were? Either way, he was growing desperate. He cupped your face in his hands and it broke your heart to watch the tears well up in his eyes. “Now, I can't help you if you ain't willing to fight for yourself,” 

You pressed your lips together and gave him a sad look as you pulled his hands from your face. “I know. It's okay. It's what I want.”

You twisted your fingers in his jacket and rose up on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his. In true Dean fashion, his arms wrapped around you so he could pull your body against his. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, forcing your mouth open. 

He kissed like the real Dean. So maybe the Sam and Dean in heaven wouldn’t be so bad if they were moulded from your mind. Maybe it would feel like you’d never left them behind. 

You pulled away before you could change your mind. He disappeared when you took a step back. The sorrow in his face would forever be etched into your mind. 

With one last deep breath, you turned on your heel and headed toward the cabin. The front door creaked as you pushed it open. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when you walked inside but it wasn’t an old, gaunt man in a black suit standing by the fireplace. 

He turned as you entered. “Hello, Y/N. We haven’t met. I’m Death. I've been waiting for you.”

****

Sam and Dean squeezed their eyes shut as the bright light that signalled an angel’s banishment shone throughout the corridor. 

Sam groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. Dean wiped the blood from his nose and leaned against the wall as his vision tilted. Sam pulled out the axe that was embedded in your room door and rushed in when the sound of urgent beeping started up. Dean stumbled in after him.

“What the hell's happening?” Sam said when he spotted a weakened Ezekiel slumped in the chair by your bed. 

The angel gestured to the monitor you were hooked up to. “This just started. And the warding. I'm afraid I'm weaker than I thought.”

Without another word, Dean picked up one of the markers again and began crossing out sigils. 

“I am sorry,” Ezekiel said.

Dean turned to him. “No. No, no, no. No, we had a deal, okay? We fight. You save.”

“And would that I could. I'm just afraid it's too late.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam snapped, his calm façade finally fell apart along with the last hope of your survival. All he could think was that he couldn’t go back to a life without you. He’d done it for a year and it had almost killed him. He couldn’t do it again. 

“Are you saying there's no way to save Y/N’s life?” Dean growled.

“No good ways, I'm afraid,” Ezekiel said.

“Well, what are the bad ones?” Ezekiel turned his gaze away. “We're out of options here, man. Good or bad, let me hear them.”

The angel looked back at him. “I cannot promise, but there is a chance I can fix your mate from the inside.”

“From the inside. So, what, you gonna open her up?” Dean knew he was in a bad way when he actually considered doing it. Ezekiel shook his head. “What, possession? You want to possess Y/N?”

Sam rubbed a hand over his mouth as he looked down at you. He already knew what Dean was going to say.

“I told you,” Ezekiel said.

“No way,” Dean growled.

Ezekiel nodded once. “Understood. It's your call.”

“No, it's Y/N's call,” Sam said as he looked to his brother. He held his hands out to the side. “There's no way in hell she'd say yes to being possessed by anything.”

“She would rather die,” Ezekiel stated.

Sam and Dean gave him a rueful nod. With a pained sound, Ezekiel pushed himself to his feet and waved his hand across the screen of the monitor. The beeping stopped, and yet the silence was near deafening. 

“I'll leave the three of you alone, then,” Ezekiel said as he headed for the door. 

“Wait,” Dean said as he looked down at you. Ezekiel turned back. “If we consider this – and I mean just consider it – I need something, man. You got to prove to me how bad she is.”

Without a word. Ezekiel moved towards you and put a hand on your head. “Close your eyes.” Dean did as he was told and Ezekiel placed his other hand on Dean’s head.

When Dean saw you sitting in a cabin alive and well, his heart almost burst with the joy he felt. That all changed when he saw that you were sitting with Death.

“I must admit,” Death said as he looked at you, “when I heard it was you ... well, I had to come myself.”

You scoffed. “Really? A human like me? How did I get such a royal treatment?” 

Dean smiled at the sarcasm in your voice. Of course, you wouldn’t be scared of Death. Not like he and Sam were. 

“I consider it to be quite the honour to be collecting the likes of Y/N Winchester. I try so hard not to pass judgment at times like this – not my bag, you see, but you ... well played, my dear. Only been at it a handful of years, and already your reputation precedes you.”

You frowned. “I’m – I’m not a Winchester.”

Yes, you were, Dean thought.

Death’s eyebrows raised as he looked at you. “Aren’t you? Could have fooled me. Your kind may not allow you to marry both the Winchester boys but in the world of monsters, you are very much their mate. You’ve been called a Winchester for longer than you know.”

You felt the corner of your mouth curl up at that. You’d always wanted to take their name. Typically, you had never agreed with the custom of a woman’s name being taken from her. But you had your father’s last name. Nothing would have made you happier than burning that name from your life and replacing in with ‘Winchester’. 

“I need to know one thing,” you said.

Death leaned forward in his chair as he watched you. Sam and Dean had always told you he was terrifying but you felt nothing but peace with him. He was gentle and calm. His presence soothed you. 

“Yes,” he said.

You licked your lips and leaned forward as well. “If I go with you ... can you promise that it will be final? That if I'm dead, I stay dead. Nobody can reverse it; nobody can deal it away. Sam and Dean … they’ll try and bring me back. You can’t let them.”

His eyes dropped to the ground for a moment, then he looked back up at you and nodded. “I can promise that.”

Dean drew in a deep breath as Ezekiel’s hand fell away from his face. He felt tears drop from his chin as he looked at his brother.

“What happened, Dean,” Sam said. 

“She’s – she, uh … she wants to die,” Dean choked out. “She’s making a deal with Death.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he gripped Dean’s shoulder. Shaking him as he said, “What deal?!”

Dean swallowed and looked back down at you. “If she dies … there’s no bringing her back. Not even selling our souls will work.”

Sam felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He turned to look down at you. “What the hell is she doing?”

“As you can see, there's not much time,” Ezekiel said. 

“We know,” Dean said. “Damn it. We know.”

“How will it work?” Sam said as he looked at the angel. 

Ezekiel grimaced as he shifted on his feet and pressed a hand to his side. “Mutual benefit, I suppose. I heal Y/N while healing myself.”

“And when she's healed?”

“I leave. It's the best of a bad situation,” the angel said.

“Even if we said yes, it doesn't mean squat,” Dean said. “Y/N will never say yes – not to you.”

“But she would say yes to one of you.”

****

Death stood from his armchair and turned towards the window. “It's time, Y/N. Shall we?” 

You stood and went to follow him, only to stop short when Dean appeared in the doorway. 

“Hold on,” he said. 

You frowned. “Dean.”

“It's okay, baby.” He looked at Death. “I, uh, would have brought cronuts, but time is short, so ...”

Death rolled his eyes. Something that you never thought you’d experience. “By all means,” he said. 

“What's going on?” you said as you took a step towards Dean. 

“I found a plan,” he said.

You shook your head and threw your hands up. “It's too late. I'm going.”

Dean strode towards you. “No, no. No, no. Listen to me.”

“Why are you even here? I'm not fighting this anymore!”

“You have to fight this!” he strode towards you. “I can fix this, okay? But not if you shut me out.” He looked to Death again. “It's not her time.”

“That's for Y/N to decide,” Death said.

A sound fell from Dean’s throat. It was a mixture of fear and desperation. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t. And you wondered for a moment if maybe you were being selfish in leaving him behind. In leaving Sam behind. 

“Y/N, listen to me,” Dean said. “I made you a promise in that church. You, me and Sammy, come whatever. Well, hell, if this ain't whatever ... but you got to let me in, baby. You got to let me help. There ain't no me if there ain't no you.”

Your brows furrowed and you pressed your lips together as you tried to fight back the tears that welled up. His expression was broken and lost. 

You thought back to earlier when Dean disappeared. You thought about the conclusion that you’d come too. About being with Sam and Dean in heaven without the pressure of your mental health, or the pressure of saving the world. 

You tried to hold onto that. Tried to use that to stand your ground against Dean’s pleas.

And then you thought … what if the fact that the three of you had to work so hard to make the relationship work was the whole reason it worked in the first place? Every day, you, Sam and Dean had to fight for each other. So what would happen when there was suddenly nothing left to fight against? 

You looked to Death for the answer but his face was blank. Your eyes shifted back to Dean. You knew what answer he would give you. 

“What do I do?” you said.

Dean’s face lit up. His lips curled up in a hopeful smile and his eyes went soft. That alone convinced you that you’d made the right decision.

“Is that a yes?” he said.

You glanced back to Death again, then to Dean. “Yes.”

Dean closed the space between the two of you and placed his hands on your shoulders. “Come on.”

Suddenly Dean’s face morphed into that of a strange man. Fear pierced through you as white light filled the room and you stared into the man’s eyes. 

Then everything went black and you felt nothing.

****

Dean and Sam shared a look as they walked away from the hospital a little behind you. Only it wasn’t you – it was Ezekiel. 

 

“So? How's it look in there?” Dean said.

“Not good. There is much work to be done,” you – Ezekiel – said. 

You walked straighter, stiffer than you normally did. And the way you spoke was odd. Sam and Dean had wanted you back, and they were more than happy that you were alive, but they wanted all of you. All your little quirks. Right down to the way you walked and spoke. 

“She's gonna wake up, right?” Sam said.

“She will.”

“So, when she does,” Dean said, “what, is she gonna feel you inside, triaging her spleen?”

“She will not feel me, no,” Ezekiel said. 

Dean chewed on his bottom lip. He hated hearing Ezekiel speak with your voice. The same voice that had said ‘I love you’ so many times. The same one that whispered in his ear in the most intimate of moments. The same one that would yell at him about eating your food, and then groan in frustration and desire when he kissed you to shut you up. 

Ezekiel stopped and turned to look up at Sam and Dean with your eyes. Sam had to look away. He’d never seen your eyes so cold. “There is no reason for Y/N to know I'm in here at all,” Ezekiel said.

“You're joking,” Dean said. “No, this is – this is too big.”

“And what will she do if you do tell her she is possessed by an angel?”

She – she’ll just have to understand,” Sam said.

“And if she does not? Without her acceptance, Y/N can eject me at any time, especially with me so weak. And if Y/N does eject me, she will die,” Ezekiel said.

“Then we keep it a secret for now,” Dean said. “Or until Y/N's well enough that she doesn't need an angelic pacemaker or I find a way to tell her. I – I ... as for her being in a hospital, we'll have to figure something out.”

“I can erase it all if you like,” Ezekiel said. “She will not remember any of this.”

Dean looked at Sam and saw disapproval. “What else is there?” Dean said to him.

Sam said nothing and Dean told Ezekiel to do it. 

****

You woke up in the front seat of the Impala. Night had fallen and you were squished between the brothers. You spotted drool on Sam’s shoulder and realised it was from you.

“Where are we?” you said as you wiped your mouth. 

“Whoa. Y/N?” Dean said as he looked at you.

“What?”

Sam’s fingers were under your chin as he turned your head to look at him. He inspected your face. After a moment he smiled and rubbed a thumb down your cheek and across your bottom lip. 

He kissed you then. Only it was the kind of kiss he reserved for the bedroom when the two of you were alone. He growled against your mouth and slid his tongue against yours. 

You let out a noise of surprise before pushing him back with a laugh. “What the hell, Sam?”

“Okay, take – take it easy,” Dean said as he moved one hand from the wheel and used it to push the hair out of your face and pull you closer to him. “How you, uh – how you feeling?”

You shrugged and rubbed a hand over your face. “Tired. Like I – like I slept for a week.”

Dean nodded. “Well, try a day. You've been out since the sky was spittin' angels.”

“What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Sam said as he ran a hand up and down your thigh. 

You wrapped your hands around his arm and trapped his own hand between your thighs as you leaned your head against him. 

“The church,” you said, “feeling like crap, the angels falling, and that's it.”

“But you're feeling good?” Dean said as he glanced at you again.

You lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Yeah. I mean, I just, um …” you frowned, “you've been driving around with me passed out in the passenger's seat for a day?”

“Oh, I mean, I stopped,” Dean said, “you know, let a few Japanese tourists take some pictures. Nobody got too handsy. I knew you'd pull through. I meant what I said at the church. You're capable of anything, Y/N, and hell if you didn't prove me right.”

“Good,” you said as you pulled away from Sam. You gripped Dean’s jaw and turned his face towards you so you could kiss him. “'Cause we got work to do.”

You fell back against Sam and he and Dean shared a look. 

Sam pulled his hand from between your thighs and wrapped his arm around your shoulders as he bent his head to capture your lips in another searing kiss. 

He didn’t care that Ezekiel was inside you. All he cared about was that you were right back between him and Dean.

Right back where you belonged.


	32. Devil May Care About Your Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angels falling was just one of the many problems you and the Winchesters now had. And when Abaddon decided to make trouble again by kidnapping hunters, it was a no-brainer for the brothers to come to the rescue. Except you weren't as sure about it as they were. Your crippling fear of Abaddon and how she made you feel kept your head out of the game and had you attacking one of the hunters you had to rescue. To add to the multitude of problems on your plate, Dean had walked in on you and Sam together and, in the spur of the moment, you'd let him watch while Sam was none the wiser. Dean's reaction had left you confused and more than a little worried.

For the first time in months (almost years) you and the brothers finally had one moment of peace. Sure, there was a job to be done but the angels weren’t going anywhere. And after the ordeal you’d been through, you thought taking a moment to catch your breath would be the best thing for the three of you. 

You needed a chance to recalibrate – find your balance between the Winchester’s once again.

Dean was laid back on a picnic table in a park. You were face down on top of him – your shirt bunched up around your waist, and your head tucked under his chin as he trailed the fingers of one hand up and down your bare spine. His other hand threaded through your hair. 

Your eyes were at half-mast as you stared at the Impala. Bliss soaked into your body and weighed you down. Sam was lounged back perpendicular to you and Dean with his fingers threaded through yours. His head rested against your side as he rubbed his thumb over your hand. 

“This is nice,” you murmured. 

Dean hummed in agreement and Sam lifted your hand to his lips. 

The moment was perfect and free of worry but it wasn’t long before reality began wiggling its way back into your mind.

“So, Cas is human?” you said as you rolled your head to rest your chin on the hand that wasn’t held captive by Sam.

Dean pulled the hand for your hair and tucked his arm under his head so he could see your face better. “Ish. I mean, he's got no Grace, no wings, no ... harp, whatever the hell else he had.”

You hummed and closed your eyes as Dean’s fingers on your spine sent a shiver through your body. “Okay. Where'd he crash-land?”

“Called me from a pay phone from Longmont, Colorado. I told him just to make for the bunker.”

“You think he can handle a road trip like that?” Sam said.

You rolled your head back to the side to look down at Sam’s puppy eyes and squeezed his hand. “Cas is a big boy. Things go Breaking Bad, he knows our number.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Right now we got bigger worries.”

You looked back up at him. “The fallen angels?”

Dean paused for the briefest moment and glanced at Sam before he said. “Yeah. I mean, thanks to Metatron, we now have a couple of thousand confused loose nukes walking around out down here.”

“What do you think they're gonna do?” Sam said before you could over analyse Dean’s hesitation.

“I got no damn clue.”

You took a deep breath when you realised there was no more avoiding the question that had nagged at you since the hospital.

“Guys,” you said. You felt Dean’s body tense at the same time that Sam’s head rolled to look at you. It baffled you sometimes how in tune with your emotions they’d become over the years. “What about Crowley? Did you … is he …?”

“No, baby,” Dean said as he squeezed his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t get me wrong, I would've loved nothing better than to ice that limey bitch. But …”

“It wasn’t news either one of us wanted to tell you,” Sam finished. 

“Yeah. Besides, we figured the King of Hell might know a few things, so why not Zero Dark Thirty his ass?”

You lifted your head and looked down at Dean. “Wait, so Crowley is ... alive?”

Dean grinned. “Oh yeah. He's the junk in my trunk.”

You looked towards the Impala and knew there was nothing else he could possibly be talking about. Without another word, you swiped the keys from his pocket and launched yourself off the table. 

Dean groaned as you used his chest to push yourself up. Sam grunted and muttered under his breath when your boot hit him in the back of the head and he fell back on his brother. 

The two of them sat up with a huff and watched you open the boot and fuss over a tied up Crowley.

Sam jerked his chin towards you and said, “That bothers you, right? I’m not the only one who gets …”

“Possessive? Jealous?” Dean offered as he glanced at his brother. “Feels like it gets worse every day.”

Sam nodded and looked down at his hands as he picked at the callouses. “But when she’s with you …”

“You feel relieved. Maybe even a little happy. Yeah, I get it. It’s like I only want her to be close to me and you. I can’t figure out why I don’t get jealous when I see her with you, though. I can’t figure out how this works. It shouldn’t … but somehow it does.”

“Maybe we just love her too much to let one another get in the way,” Sam said as he looked at Dean.

Dean shrugged and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know, man. Maybe.”

“Or maybe we just shouldn’t question it. Don’t try and fix what ain’t broke, right?”

Dean dragged his bottom lip through his teeth as he looked at you. “Yeah. Yeah, man, you’re right.” 

The two of them watched you for a moment longer before Sam said, “You know, Crowley isn’t who we should really be worried about around Y/N. Cas –”

“Yeah. I’ve noticed. I don’t like it either.”

****

When you entered the bunker, the last thing you expected was for an arrow to fly at you. By dumb luck, it buried itself into the handrail in front of you. 

“The hell?” you muttered.

You looked out into the control room just as Kevin rose from behind a barricade of books and a flipped-over table. A crossbow dangled from his hand.

“Y/N? You're alive!” he said.

You pulled the arrow from the handrail and started down the stairs. “Yeah, 'cause you're a crappy shot, Katniss.”

“Sorry,” Kevin said as he came out from behind the barricade and met you at the control table. “It's been a bad couple of days. I-I haven't slept or eaten, I ... I'm pretty backed up.”

You raised your brows at him and tossed the arrow onto the table. “Okay, overshare.”

“After I called Dean about the angel trials, this place went nuts, alright? Th-there was some alarm, and all the machines were freaking out, and the bunker just locked down! I couldn't open the door, my cell phone stopped working, I thought the world was ending!”

You could tell Kevin’s anxiety was peaking so you did your best to remain blasé about the entire situation. It wouldn’t do him any good if he thought you were worried. Hell, you weren’t sure the gravity of the situation had even hit you yet.

“Close,” you said. “The angels fell.”

“The ... what does that mean?”

You shrugged. “Nothing good.” You pulled the crossbow from him and turned it over in your hands before placing it beside the arrow. “Listen, next time the world's ending, grab a gun.”

You brushed past him towards the steps that led into the library to make sure Kevin hadn’t flipped over anything else in there. Then you pulled your phone from your pocket to see if Kevin was right about the reception.

“I got service,” you said when you saw full bars.

Kevin frowned and went over to the bunkers control panel. He flicked the switch and the machine whirred to life as it came on.

“It's back online,” he said. “Maybe when you opened the door from the outside door, it reset the system.”

You nodded. “Yeah, okay, let's go with that.”

You looked back up at the entrance as the door opened. Sam and Dean came in with Crowley shuffling between them. His handcuffs were still on, and a blindfold and earmuffs had been put on about a few hundred miles from the town the bunker was in. 

“Hey. All good?” Sam said as he and Dean stopped at the top of the stairs.

You sighed. “Is it ever. Come on.”

****

Crowley was in the dungeon, handcuffed to the chair in the centre of the devil’s trap, and the first thing Dean does when he pulls off the hood and earmuffs is punch the king in the nose.

“Never get tired of doing that,” he said.

“Dean,” you warned. 

He threw his hands up and looked at you. “Come on, baby. We gonna do this every time I hit him?”

You cocked a brow at him and folded your arms. “Don’t like it? Don’t do it.”

He pointed at you. “You know, one of these days I’m gonna put you over my knee.”

You smiled. “Promise?”

Crowley made a disgusted sound. “Please. That’s my daughter you’re talking about.” Sam rolled his eyes. “What? I’m the closest thing she ever had to a father.”

“That explains a lot of things,” Sam muttered. He chuckled when you elbowed him in the ribs. 

Crowley’s eyes fell on the wall of torture implements to his right. 

“Homey,” he said. “Where did you get this fantastic little treehouse?”

“Alright,” Sam said, “here's how it's gonna go. You're giving us the name of every demon on earth, and the people they're possessing.”

“Am I? Doesn't sound like me.”

“I saw you break down, Crowley,” you said. “When I was trying to cure you, I know a part of you was human again, maybe still is.”

He rolled his eyes. “Blah blah, boohoo. Done? Good. 'Cause this is what I know. I'm not giving you anything. Why would I? You have no leverage, darlings. You're not gonna close the gates of Hell, because you didn't, you're not gonna kill me, because you haven't. So what's left?”

Dean’s lips curled up in a smirk. “We have a few ideas.”

“Torture,” Crowley said, “Brilliant. Can't wait to see Sam in stilettos and a leather bustier, really putting the S-A-M into S&M. Honestly, boys. What are you gonna do to me that I don't do to myself just for kicks every Friday night?”

Your nose crinkled in disgust at the image those words brought about. 

Dean, with a parting quip of, ‘Have fun’, waited for you and Sam to leave the dungeon before switching out the lights and closing the shelves back up.

****

Kevin being upset about Crowley being in the bunker was not a surprise. In fact, you were shocked he hadn’t started his rant the moment Sam and Dean came in the door with him. 

Dean managed to calm him down and convince him to start translating the angel tablet while he, you and Sam began searching for a case.

When Dean made a phone call to warn an old hunter friend of Bobby’s about angels, and Sam went in search of food, that’s when you pounced. 

When you were sick from the trials, the brothers had refused to have sex with you. Flirting, cuddling and teasing had been a yes but sex was a no go. You understood why they did it – you were glad, even – but now you were better and suddenly your libido had kicked into overdrive. 

You couldn’t look at the brothers without thinking about them between your thighs no matter what they were doing. It amped up the more frustrated or angry they were. Whilst Sam was naturally rough in bed and Dean wasn’t, frustration and anger turned them both into the most domineering, alpha males you’d ever seen. 

It didn’t bode well for your stubborn streak outside of the bedroom but inside? The more tightly wound they were the better. 

It hadn’t been hard to decide which brother to go after that day. Dean had buried himself in research, phone calls and the angel tablet. He’d taken it upon himself to make sure hunters across the country knew how to handle an angel.

Sam, on the other hand, was just going along for the ride. He was working hard, sure, but his heart wasn’t really in it. He was distracted. By what, you didn’t know. Maybe he was still coming down from the adrenaline of what happened at the church, either way, he was an easy target for your sex crazed mind.

You followed him into the kitchen and wasted no time spinning him around and pushing him back against the fridge.

“Y/N, what –”

He grunted as you tugged his head down and meshed your lips to his. Sam was off guard and overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of your passion. He tried to go with it for a moment but he felt awkward and uncoordinated. 

Giving up control in the bedroom had never been his thing. Sure, in the occasional one-night stand he’d had he was willing to relinquish a little control. But he found that the more he cared about a person the more domineering he became in bed. 

Sam was sure that a psychologist somewhere would link it back to his experience with losing the women he loved but he didn’t care about that. Right now, he only cared about you and the things you made him feel. 

He had never craved someone’s submission in the bedroom as much as he craved yours. That fact is what made him sure he was in love with you after his first time in bed with you. It was a while after that night when he’d actually said the words but he’d known then how he felt. He’d never had a doubt in his mind. 

It didn’t just feel like love, though. As Sam forced you back into submission and backed you up into the table he realised he’d never loved anyone the way he loved you. 

Not Jess.

And definitely not Amelia. 

He could chalk it up to the idea that every love was different but that wasn’t it. Sam had never believed in soul mates before. He’d never believed there was just one person out there for everyone. 

But was it really that far-fetched? 

After all, Fate was a living being. His and Dean’s birth themselves had been destined. So what if you were destined for Sam? What if you were his One? His soul mate? 

What if you were Dean’s soul mate too?

As Sam pulled back and looked into your half-lidded, lust blown eyes he seriously considered that was the case. 

Jess and Amelia couldn’t hold a torch to you. Amelia had been one thing but Jess … he didn’t think there would ever be a person that could fill the whole Jess left. And then he met you. Now, he couldn’t even remember what Jess felt like, let alone the things he loved about her. 

He knew he should have felt guilty but he didn’t. Your very existence consumed him to the point that he couldn’t bring himself to care about anyone outside the Winchester trio.

Because you were a Winchester to Sam. Even if it would never be legal – never be a ceremony or rings – you were his wife in every sense of the word. 

“Sam? Are you okay?” you said.

Sam blinked and realised he’d just been staring at you. His pants were undone, his shirt open. Your flannel – Dean’s flannel – was falling off your shoulder and he was standing there staring at you like an idiot. 

He shook his head and chuckled. “Yeah. Sorry. I just, uh … I don’t know. I think – I think I was just realising what you mean to me.”

You smiled and Sam knew he had never seen – and would never see – anything as beautiful as you. 

Then your hand was guiding his up the inside of your thigh and he was finding it difficult to breathe. 

“Yeah?” you whispered. Your lips brushed against his and they parted in anticipation. The kiss never came and Sam found himself leaning forward to chase your mouth when you moved back. 

You breathed out a laugh at his eagerness. “If that’s the case, then I want to show you how you make me feel, too.” 

Sam groaned as his fingers met with your warm heat. He could barely remember ripping your panties from your body – and he knew you had been wearing them because Dean had gone caveman about you wearing something under the flannels while Kevin was around. 

“You feel that?” you said as you guided his fingers through your wet folds. “That’s what you do to me, Sammy. Every time you touch me.”

His top lip snarled as he growled and sank two of his fingers into you. You moaned and he drank the sound up as he hoisted you onto the table with one arm around your waist. 

His lips moved down to your neck and you spread your thighs wide for him. When his fingers began working inside of you, your mouth fell open with your cries and your ass rocked on the table as you thrust against him. 

The moment you saw Dean in the doorway with a scowl the pleasure amped up. You thought about telling Sam that you’d been caught, and then you thought again about how long it had been since you’d been intimate with either of the brothers. 

That was all it took to have your hold on Sam tighten. You locked eyes with Dean and let your lips curl up in a smile as you breathed a moan into Sam’s ear. 

“You like that?” Sam growled against your neck. 

His lips moved over your collarbone and he pulled the flannel further open until one of your breasts was exposed for his mouth.

You cried out as his fingers curled inside you and his palm pressed against your clit. Typically, he liked to work you up fast and keep you on the cusp of an orgasm but you supposed he’d been anxious to get back in on the action as well because the moment your orgasm began building he didn’t slow down.

Your brows furrowed and your fingers tightened in his hair. You used your other hand to support you as you lifted your hips against Sam’s hands. 

Not once did you look away from Dean’s face. And not once did he look away from yours. He wasn’t giving away anything – he was a blank slate. By that alone, you were sure he had no idea what he was feeling either. 

By the time you fell over the edge, it was impossible to keep eye contact with him. Your head fell back and your eyes closed. Your toes curled and Sam lifted his head to watch your face as you came on his fingers. His breath came out in pants and he marvelled at how worked up you got him when his pants weren’t even off yet. 

With that thought in mind, he pulled his fingers from you and took a moment to admire the quivering of your legs before he moved his hands to the waistband of his jeans. 

“Sam.” 

Sam’s head whipped around at the sound of Dean’s growl. He had a scowl on his face but he was having trouble looking him in the eye. Sam figured it was because of what he walked in on. A second later and he would have gotten an eye full of Sam’s ass.

Sam almost smiled at the thought as he did his jeans back up. 

“We got something,” Dean said. 

Sam pressed his lips together in a smile and nodded before turning back to you and fixing your shirt so you were covered again. Then he placed a kiss on your nose, said: “We’ll finish this later”, and left you with Dean. 

You swallowed hard and scooted back on the table as you closed your legs. Your body was still going through the aftershocks of the orgasm, and you knew Dean wasn’t going to wait for you to calm down before he said what he needed to. 

His steps towards you were slow, and by the time he stopped in front of you (so close that his hips brushed against your knees) you were capable of speech. 

“What were you doing?” Dean said. 

Your heart jumped as you stared into his eyes. He wasn’t growling or scowling or anything else. He didn’t seem angry at all. But he didn’t seem happy either. His voice was quiet but it wasn’t soft. For once, you had no idea how Dean felt. You never knew that could terrify you so much until you were faced with it. 

Suddenly the stunt you pulled didn’t seem so playful anymore and you didn’t have the words to answer his question.

“When I agreed to share you with my brother, watching him fuck you wasn’t a part of that deal,” Dean said – in that same tone that had you wondering if he was about to fuck you or yell at you. 

“He wasn’t fucking me,” you said. It took more courage than you were willing to admit to force the words out of your mouth. 

“But he was going to. And you would have let him. You wouldn’t have said anything.”

He hadn’t asked a question but he watched you as though he had. As though he was waiting for some sort of answer. You didn’t know what he wanted to hear, so you took a chance.

“You didn’t have to stay silent as long as you did,” you said. “You didn’t have to watch.”

Suddenly the precarious balance of Dean’s odd mood tipped and anger filled up his eyes. He glanced away briefly and flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip. You expected him to step back and snap at you but he didn’t. Again, he shocked and terrified you with his sudden unpredictability.

He hooked his hands under your knees, spread your thighs wide and pulled you to the edge of the table until his jean clad crotch was nestled against your naked one. Then his hand slid up over your neck and under your jaw so he could force your face up. 

“Sam isn’t finishing anything later,” he said. “Not until I’m done with you.”

As suddenly as he’d grabbed you, he let you go and left the kitchen. Left you wondering if his words were a threat or a promise.

****

The case Dean found involved demons and the army. Two things you’d never thought would come together. In fact, you’d briefly wondered why demons had never possessed soldiers before, and then the smell hit you.

“Oh, God. This place reeks of sulfur,” you said as you held your sleeve up to your nose and glanced at the bus that sat in the middle of the parking lot. 

“Between the stink, with the freak thunderstorms, and every cow dead within three miles, I'll take demons for $1000, Alex,” Dean said. 

The three of you stopped just before the door of the bus when a sergeant blocked your way.

“Hey,” Dean said as he flashed his badge. “Agents Stark, Banner and Rogers, FBI. Just need to have a look around.”

“Why?” the sergeant said with a frown. “This is a military case, not a federal one.”

“Well, that's not what our supervisor said,” Sam said with a small smile.

“That so?” she said as she folded her arms and looked up at him. You knew the defiance of a woman in a man’s world all too well. You had to stifle your smile. “Then maybe he and I oughta have a chat.”

Sam pressed his lips together as Dean agreed (with no small amount of surprise) and pulled his mobile out. 

“Hey, boss, uh... we got a little problem here,” he said when Kevin answered the phone. You knew it was Kevin because there was no one else he could call, what with Garth’s disappearance and Cas’s lack of social skills.

Dean nodded as he listened to Kevin. You wished you could hear the kids confused stuttering.

“Yeah,” Dean said with a smile aimed at the stony-faced sergeant, “just a local badge needs confirmation we're supposed to be here. How the word came down from FBI headquarters in DC.”

He handed the phone over to the sergeant, and you knew before she took the call that Kevin hadn’t had an opportunity to figure out what was going on, let alone agree to anything.

The sergeant narrowed her eyes at Dean before taking the phone and putting it up to her ear. “This is Sergeant Miranda Bates, who am I talking to?”

Her eyes flicked to Dean suddenly and a smirk curled the corner of her mouth, you knew then that Kevin had screwed up. 

“How old are you?” she said. A moment passed before she rolled her eyes. “Listen, kid, I don't have to do anything. And I don't take orders from the Feebs. So unless you can give me one good reason you got a couple of pretty-boy agents and their sidekick poking around my crime scene, I'm gonna put them in cuffs and spank your ass raw, understand?”

You took offense to the sidekick quip. Enough that you felt a sick kind of satisfaction when her face paled and she turned away from the three of you. 

“What? How did you find that?” She swallowed and nodded. “Yes. Yes, sir.”

Her jaw ticked as she pulled the phone from her ear and shoved it towards you. You took it and stifled a triumphant laugh as she stalked off. 

“Kevin? What the hell did you just do?” you said as you put the phone to your ear. 

“All military computers are linked to the same network,” he said.

You nodded when Sam and Dean gestured that they were hoping onto the bus. “And?”

“I hacked it.”

You smiled. “Hey, Kevin? Good job.”

You hung up and made a mental note to pick up dinner for Kevin on the way home before climbing onto the bus.

“Anything?” you said as you watched Sam and Dean examine the bodies. 

“Yeah,” Sam said as he gestured at the body in front of him, “this guy was shot in the heart.”

“That’s what killed him?”

“Maybe—fifteen, twenty years ago,” Dean said. “Every one of these bodies has a fatal wound, or two, or three, but they're all old.”

“So we're looking at meat suits? The bodies took a licking, and the demons inside kept them ticking.”

Sam nodded. “Probably. I think they were possessed. And now those soldiers are.”

“Excuse me, agents?” The three of you turned to look at the sergeant as she climbed onto the bus. “We pulled this off a security camera. You might wanna take a look.”

She handed you a tablet with video footage. Sam and Dean looked down over your shoulders and watched as the video showed the possessed soldiers and the bus driver exit the bus. You zoomed in on the driver and felt your stomach flip as she looked up at the camera with a smirk.

Abaddon. 

After brief, parting pleasantries, you, Sam and Dean got off the bus and started towards the Impala. That’s when Dean started on you.

“Abaddon? Seriously?!” he growled. “I thought you Kentucky fried that meat suit.”

“I did, Dean,” you replied with a frustrated look. 

“Well, then how'd she get it back? And why's she playing G.I. Joe?”

“I don’t know,” you snapped as you stopped by the back door of the car. Abaddon’s very existence was enough to put you on edge, you didn’t need Dean’s interrogation. “Why don't you ask her when we find her?”

“Y/N,” Sam said as he held open the passenger door for you.

You rolled your eyes. Whilst it was sweet that they’d been letting you sit in the front seat after you almost died, you were pissed and scared. You needed someone to take it out on.

“I don’t want to sit in the front seat, Sam,” you snapped. “Stop babying me.” 

Sam and Dean shared a concerned look when you slammed the car door behind you. 

****

Kevin called that night in a panic with coordinates and a story about how Abaddon called him saying she had two hunters held hostage. 

Irv and Tracy.

Sam and Dean knew Irv but Tracy wasn’t someone any of you knew. 

“Alright, new job,” Dean said when you put Kevin on speaker, “dig up everything the Men of Letters have on Knights of Hell.”

“Knights of Hell?” Kevin said. “Sure.” 

“You find a way to kill one, I mean permanently, drop a dime.”

You thanked Kevin before hanging up and propping your elbows on the back of the front seat. “The numbers point to a spot on the outskirts of Eugene, Oregon. You know this is a trap, right?”

“Yep,” Dean said.

“And we're just gonna walk right into it?” Sam said.

“Guns blazing. You with me?”

“You know it.”

You leaned back in your seat without answering. For once, you could honestly say that you wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run. 

Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror, he didn’t miss the fear in your eyes. And it didn’t escape his notice that you hadn’t said you were with him on this. 

****

A contaminated ghost town. That’s where the coordinates led you. It seemed fitting considering who Abaddon was. How she made you feel. 

You stood on the dirt road with Sam and Dean (a duffel bag hanging from his fingers) and looked over the abandoned buildings. Knowing that she was in one of the buildings filled you with dread. Every time you saw her it felt like she turned your entire identity upside down.

She left you questioning everything you did – who you were as a person. 

“The hell happened here?” Dean said.

“Local chemical plant sprung a leak, years ago,” Sam said. “They evacuated three square blocks. Guess it's still contaminated.”

“Wait, so this whole place is poison?”

Sam nodded. Dean swallowed and shifted his hand so it shielded his crotch.

You rolled your eyes. “That's not gonna help.”

“Doesn't hurt,” Dean said. You stormed off in search of the diner the coordinates led to and Dean glanced at his brother. “Is it just me or –”

“Yeah,” Sam said as he stared at you. “Yeah, I’ve noticed it too.”

“She’s all … edgy when it comes to Abaddon.”

“Do you blame her? I mean, Abaddon makes her doubt herself. Y/N … she’s spent most of her life just … relying on herself. She could only ever trust her own judgment. And then Abaddon … imagine one day, you suddenly doubt everything about the person you trusted the most. You question everything they do and say. You can’t trust them anymore. That kind of thing will shake you up.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I know, Sam. I’ve been there.”

Sam looked at his brother but Dean didn’t elaborate, instead, he followed after you. But Sam didn’t need Dean to say it to know he was the one Dean had doubted once. 

In a moment of dread, Sam realised that you were the only person who had never let Dean down. It was no wonder the eldest Winchester was so unquestionably loyal to you. 

Of course, Sam was loyal to you as well, there was no doubt about it. He would never turn on you for anything. But if you were to ask Sam to go against his morals he would question it.

The problem with Dean was that he wouldn’t. And whilst that bode well for his relationship with you, it didn’t help Dean with any other friendships. Sam strongly believed that if you told him just then to leave the hunters to die, Dean would do. He wouldn’t question the decision. He would just do it and trust that you had a good reason. 

Sam knew that you would never take advantage of Dean’s fierce loyalty but that didn’t change the fact that it was unhealthy. And whilst Sam loved you like he’d never loved anyone else, and even though he knew he would do things for you that he would never do for anyone else, it terrified him that one day he might become his brother. That he might be willing to drop all his morals and values the moment you clicked your fingers.

He was terrified that he may already be at that point. 

He caught up to you and Dean just as you pulled your gun at the sound of commotion coming from inside the diner.

You were quick to kick down the door and scan the front dining area as Sam and Dean went to untie the two hunters that sat near the door. 

You couldn’t figure out where the commotion had come from but you didn’t want to stick around to find out. You turned to tell them all just that but stopped at the mention of Abaddon.

“Abaddon's been torturing hunters,” Irv said. “She's trying to get intel on you boys.”

Sam and Dean straightened, their hands falling from the still-tight ropes. 

“Do you know why?” Sam said. 

“I seriously doubt she wants to add you to her Christmas card list. Now, d'you wanna make with the rescue or what?”

“Give them a shot of holy water first,” you said. 

That was a call that Dean would normally make but when Abaddon was around, you became unbearably vigilant. Even ruthless if the stint with Henry way back was anything to go buy.

It was another reason she terrified you. It felt like you were a puppet and she was pulling the strings. 

Neither Sam nor Dean questioned your order. 

“Happy?” Tracy said when she swallowed down the holy water that Sam gave her. 

The snark in her voice when she said it was enough for you to already be sick of her. Snark wasn’t something that normally annoyed you, you’d be a hypocrite if it did. But – Abaddon equaled puppet master. And she bothered you enough that you played along. 

“Sorry about that,” Dean said to Irv as he capped his flask once more.

“Don't worry about it. Last thing you need is us popping black eyes,” Irv said. 

You liked Irv.

You scanned the diner again as Sam and Dean cut Tracy and Irv’s ties.

“You're Tracy, right?” Sam said when the girl stood. “I'm Sam Winchester.”

“Good for you,” Tracy said with a scathing look.

Sam and Dean’s heads jerked back in shock. Your first instinct was to defend Sam but with what you were feeling, you didn’t trust yourself to be polite. 

“She's new,” Irv said. “We did a shifter job in Sacramento together. Smart, but got a mouth on her.”

“Well she better shut that mouth,” you growled. “We’ve got to gear up.”

Irv looked impressed at your comment. You were guessing that not many people clapped back at Tracy’s snark. 

You looked at the girl, daring her with your eyes to say something. To give you an excuse to do what you really wanted to do. 

You ignored the fact that she reminded you of yourself. 

Dean hoisted the duffel bag from the floor where he’d dropped it, and placed it on the counter. He began emptying it, calling out the special weapons he had and what they did for Tracy’s benefit. Irv had already had the run down – being one of the hunters that Dean contacted. 

Sam was leaning back against one of the tables by the window while you paced. The longer you stayed in the diner, the worse your anxiety became. The only thing you wanted to do was leave the town and never look back. But the brothers were right, Abaddon needed to be killed sooner rather than later. 

Sam caught your wrist when you walked by him again. Your hand tightened around the butt of your gun but relaxed when you reminded yourself it was just Sam. He pulled you into him, spreading his legs so you could nestle between them as he cupped your jaw. 

He pressed his forehead against yours and rubbed his thumbs against your cheeks. 

He didn’t have to say anything. There wasn’t anything to say in these moments. Just his warmth wrapping around you – his presence – was enough to calm you. But only for a moment, and then Irv was talking to you.

“You’re Y/N, right?” he said. 

Sam pulled back but kept his hands resting loosely on your hips as you looked at Irv and nodded.

Irv nodded and smiled as though he’d just made some sort of discovery. “Yeah. You are. There was word going around that a woman had made it into the boys’ club.” Irv chuckled. “The word came from monsters mostly. When they started calling you a Winchester, we figured you were some long lost sister.” His eyes dropped to Sam’s hands still resting on your hips, his thumbs tracing circles against your skin. “I’m guessing that’s not the case.”

Tracy’s eyes flicked to Dean as he turned to look at you.

“There’s other rumours too,” she said, leaving no mystery as to what she was talking about. 

“Tracy,” Irv warned. 

“It’s fine,” you said as you pulled away from Sam and levelled the girl with a hard look. 

She shifted on her feet but didn’t turn her eyes away. If it were any other time, you thought you might have admired her. 

“You wanna know if I’m fucking both the Winchester’s, right?” you said. 

“Y/N,” Dean said, his voice soft and soothing as he stepped forward until his chest brushed your shoulder and your wrist was held captive in his gentle grip. 

You opened your mouth to give the girl an earful but a sound outside had all your heads whipping towards the windows. Sam pulled down the blinds to see what it was before he turned to look at you and Dean.

“They're coming,” Sam said.

Dean nodded. “Good.”

“And they've got assault rifles.”

“Okay, less good.”

“So, what's the play?” Irv said.

The play had been to lure the demons into the diner with a recording of dean’s voice as the five of you snuck out the back. 

“Alright,” Dean said when you were all out of the diner. “We gotta flank SEAL team douche in there, so, uh, Irv, you and me will go left, and Sam, you and Tracy go right. Y/N, you go with them, keep her in line.”

Tracy narrowed her eyes at Dean but wisely said nothing. 

“Okay. Let's move,” Sam said. He went to move towards you but bumped into Tracy as he did. 

“Don't touch me,” she growled. 

That you could have handled, what turned your vision red was her shoving him back hard enough to make him stumble. 

Dean asked what the problem was but you didn’t wait for an answer as you shoved her back and pinned her against the dumpster – hard. 

“You’re on your last leg, sweetheart,” you growled in her face as she struggled against your hold. 

“My family's dead because of him,” she spat back. 

“What?” Sam said.

“I watched a demon slaughter my parents. And the whole time it talked about how it was celebrating. Some dumb kid let Lucifer out of his cage.” She gave Sam a pointed look. 

You pulled her forward before slamming her back against the dumpster. That was the last straw for Dean, he gestured for Irv to help him and they moved forward to pull you back from Tracy. 

“We all got dead family,” you snapped as you shook the two men off. “Stow your crap. You won’t get any sympathy here.”

“Okay,” Dean said, “alright, we gotta move. Girl's with me, Irv ...”

Irv nodded and herded you and Sam around one side of the diner while Dean and Tracy went the other way. The pain in Sam’s eyes made the anger in your heart burn hotter. 

You were too furious to even comfort him and tell him she was wrong. That none of that blood was on his hands.

****

Dean peeked around the corner of the diner, the butt of his gun nestled in the palm of his hand. He glanced back at Tracy to see her in the same stance. It made him feel uneasy having her at his back. Lately, it seemed like he could only ever trust you at his back. He would say the same for Sam but there had been times where he couldn’t even trust Sam.

But he’d always trusted you. 

“Okay, I think they're still inside,” Dean said as he focused back on the issue at hand. “We wait till they come out, and we pick them off one by one.”

Tracy said nothing and he thought back to what she’d said about Sam.

“Listen,” he said, “for the record, Sam's not the only guy who thought he was doing right and watched it all go to crap, okay? That's just part of being –”

“Being a hunter.”

Dean looked back at her. He imagined that she couldn’t be far off your age but all he could see was a girl when he looked at her petulant face. Just a girl. When he looked at you, however, he always saw a woman.

He wondered when he started comparing everybody to you. When you’d become his standard for people in general. 

“Being human,” Dean said. “Look, you wanna be pissed off at Sam, that's fine, I get it. But if you wanna go after somebody, you make sure that they got black eyes. Gotta know who the real monsters are in this world, kid. Sam won’t say anything but Y/N will. She’s got a protective streak a mile long and she’s a hot head. You don’t want to make an enemy of her. Attacking Sam is a sure-fire way of doing that.”

****

“Sam, you copacetic?” Irv said.

Sam said he was but as his hand tightened around the handle of the demon knife you knew he wasn’t. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that, though.

“Good,” Irv said. “Now, hand me that toothpick and you, Dean, Tracy and Y/N … you beat feet outta here.”

“What?” you said as you looked at him with a frown, stopping everyone in their tracks.

“I'm going in there alone. I'll buy you as much time as I can.”

“Irv, that's death,” Sam said.

“Yeah, well, it's what I've got coming.” He swallowed hard as he glanced away. “It's my fault, guys. I was ... in some dive and I was sloppy and lonely, and I met some girl. And next thing I know, I'm strapped to some bed, and she's twisting things that ain't supposed to be twisted.”

“’She’ who?”

“Abaddon.” 

Your stomach twisted at the name and you started to wonder if she’d turned you into one of Pavlov’s dogs.

Irv’s eyes welled up as he looked at the two of you again. “I gave 'em up. Pete, Tracy, I gave 'em all up. So you hand me that blade, and you let me do what I gotta do, or so help me –”

He was dead before he ever got to finish the sentence. A bullet straight through the heart and he was on the ground. 

It wouldn’t be until later that you would realise how distracted you’d been in that moment. How much you’d let Abaddon get to you. How dangerous it was. 

Sam’s arm flew out and pushed you back against the wall as he hid behind the corner of the diner and tried shooting down the sniper. He must have hit something because next thing you knew he was dragging you behind him as he made a run for the diner’s front door. 

He threw you in through the door first and you slid across the floor as he came in after you. Your gun was still in hand, and as you finally came back to yourself and moved to stand up, a boot pressed down on the wrist of your gun hand. 

You looked up at the owner of the boot to find a smiling soldier with black eyes. 

“Boo,” he said. 

Demons possessing men with army combat training was the worst thing that could have happened. By the time they had Sam passed out behind the counter there were three of them. You cursed under your breath, knowing you had no way of taking them on and winning.

You tried anyway. Sam and Dean were the last people you thought of when your head cracked against the wall and everything went black. 

****

Dean’s blood ran cold as he ran into the diner and saw the bodies. Abaddon was long gone and Tracy was still out bringing the car around – something that would have been difficult for him to allow if your safety wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. 

Sam groaned as he pulled himself up by the counter and pressed a hand to his head. Sure of Sam’s safety, Dean turned his attention to you as you straightened from running the demon knife through the neck of a now dead soldier.

Only it wasn’t you. Not really. 

Dean’s stomach churned when he saw the coldness of Ezekiel looking out through your eyes. The guy hadn’t seemed so bad in the other meat suit but it bothered him to see someone else inhabiting the body of the woman he loved. 

“They were going to kill her, Dean,” Ezekiel said.

“The hell did you do?” Dean said as he looked around at the bodies. 

“I was protecting your mate. I thought that was what you wanted.”

Sam came around the counter than to stand by Dean. He looked at you and grimaced as he thought back to what happened between you and him in the kitchen. 

Had Ezekiel been watching? It hadn’t occurred to him at the time but then you had a funny way of gaining Sam’s entire attention when you wanted it. 

“Right, yeah,” Dean said as he nodded at Ezekiel’s comment, “no, I-I ... sorry, I'm just still getting used to this whole thing.”

“As am I,” Ezekiel said.

“But Y/N's okay?” Sam said.

“She was knocked unconscious. In a way she still is. Y/N will not remember any of this.”

“So what the hell are we supposed to tell her when she comes to?” Dean said.

Ezekiel looked down at the demon knife in his hand before holding it out to Dean. “That's why I used the knife.”

“Right. Smart,” Dean said as he took back the knife. It bothered him that the feel of your skin was still enough to make his skin tingle in excitement despite the fact it wasn’t you staring up at him. 

“Hey, Ezekiel?” Sam said. “Can you … are you aware of everything? Like everything-everything.”

Ezekiel frowned and tilted his head for a moment before he realised what Sam meant.

“If you are referring to the sexual relations you shared with Y/N in the kitchen. Then no,” he said.

Sam and Dean exchanged another glance. 

“Right,” Sam said, “but you know it happened?”

Ezekiel nodded. “Of course. I know all of Y/N’s thoughts. When she begins seduction techniques, I … ‘tune out’, as you say, for your own privacy.”

Dean nodded. His feet shifted restlessly under him as he turned to look down at the bodies again. They weren’t demons anymore. Now they were dead soldiers.

“You are troubled, still,” Ezekiel said as he watched Dean. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “It's just that, uh ... this is on me. I was the one who talked Y/N out of boarding up Hell. Okay? So every demon deal, every kill that they make ... well, you're looking at the person who let it happen.”

“Dean, this isn’t your fault,” Sam said. 

“I agree,” Ezekiel said next. “You were protecting your mate. I am in Y/N's head. Everything she knows, I know. And I know that what you did, you did out of love. Where I come from, protecting your mate is the number one priority for any angel. It takes precedence over everything, even the safety of angelkind itself. What you did would be considered noble amongst my people.”

“Well, I’m not one of your people,” Dean said. “Uh, look, Zeke—I'm gonna call you Zeke—I'm not really with the whole, uh, love, and ... love.”

“You are when you are with Y/N. And it is why I said yes.”

“Yeah, and if that goes sideways, that's on me too.”

“That’s on us,” Sam corrected. 

“That's not going to happen,” Ezekiel said. 

Dean scoffed and shook his head. “This is nuts. I mean, you're Y/N, but you're not Y/N, and normally she's the one we talk to about all this stuff. We’re trusting you, Zeke. I just gotta hope that you're one of the good guys.”

Ezekiel levelled Dean with a determined stare. “I am.” He glanced away after a heartbeat. “But I suppose that is what a bad guy would say.” Dean nodded and Ezekiel’s eyes flicked back to him. “Dean Winchester, you are both doing the right thing.”

After Sam and Dean’s heartfelt one on one with Ezekiel, the angel sat back against the wall where you had been knocked unconscious and hid back inside your mind. 

The brothers had all the equipment packed up by the time you came to a few minutes later. 

“Y/N?” Sam said when you began groaning. He crouched by your side and calmed you when you freaked out at the sight of him. 

“Sammy?” you said. “What the hell happened?”

“You took a shot to the head,” Dean said as he joined the two of you, “and I came in and saved your ass, like usual.”

You scowled at him and Dean grinned.

“I suddenly feel inadequate,” you said.

“Don’t,” Sam said as he helped you off the floor. “I came to just in time to help him. We took them by surprise. Got a little messy, we got a little lucky.”

“Oh, and, uh, I'm awesome,” Dean said, “so there's that.”

You scoffed and shoved him in the shoulder as he smiled again. 

Your brow furrowed at the sound of the Impala outside and your blood boiled when you realised it was Tracy driving. 

“Hey. You okay?” Sam said as the three of you left the diner and greeted Tracy as she climbed out of the car.

“Yeah,” Tracy said. “You?”

“More or less, yeah.”

Tracy nodded and gave him a tentative smile. “Good.”

“Seriously, Dean?” you growled. “You barely let me in the front seat but you let her drive?”

Tracy gave you a friendly smile and opened her mouth. If she thought she was about to smooth things over after rocking up in the Impala, she was dead wrong. 

“Shut up,” you snapped at her, vaguely aware of Sam slinking off to his side of the car. You jabbed a finger at her. “You’re dead to me. And Sam, you’re in the back.”

You stormed towards him and pushed him out of the way.

“W – what? I – I … I didn’t do anything wrong. It was Dean!”

“I’m angry at everyone,” you snapped as you yanked the door open and climbed in. “I never get to drive this damn car.”

Sam gave Dean a bitch-faced look over the car. “This is your fault,” he said before climbing into the back. 

“Wow,” Tracy chuckled as she looked at the stony-faced hunters. “And I thought she was just mad at me. She always like that?”

Dean felt his lips curl up in a smile as you folded your arms and pouted. “She can be, yeah. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Dean looked down at Tracy and grinned at her shock. “If you knew her. I mean, really knew her. You’d understand. It’s not something I can explain.”

Tracy shrugged and moved to open the car door on her side. “Love never is, right?”

****

On your little vacation into Abaddon’s trap, it turned out that Kevin had taken it upon himself to work Crowley over. 

Apparently, that’s all it took to make Crowley break – two names he’d given you. In his own words: “He's my new favourite toy. Wind him up, watch him go.”

“You guys check the names,” you sighed. “I’ll go find the kid.”

You found him heading towards the exit with a backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“Where are you going?” you said. He pushed right past you. “Hey, whoa.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Talk to me.”

“You can't keep me locked in here,” he snapped. “I'm leaving.”

“Like hell. We told you not to talk to Crowley. Okay? He messes with your head.”

“He said my mom's alive.” Your heart dropped at those words. “Crowley said if I let him go, he'd give her back to me.”

Your brow furrowed. “And you believed him.”

Kevin rolled his eyes and gestured in the general direction of the dungeon. “He's still in there, isn't he?!”

You sighed and scratched at your forehead before saying. “Crowley's lying.”

“And if he's not?”

You swallowed as you looked into his big, brown eyes. He was just a kid. You kept telling yourself that over and over again. Even as you said what you did next.

“Well ... if she is alive, then she's dead. In every way that matters, she's dead, Kevin, I'm sorry. I know you're dying to bolt. I get it. But out that door, it's demons, and it's angels, and they would all love to get their hands on a prophet. So even with Crowley here, this is still the safest place for you. It just is. And we need you, Kev.”

His eyes welled up as he tried to look away from you. But his eyes always found their way back to yours. 

“Because I'm useful,” he said. 

Your head snapped back in shock. “Because you're family,” you said. “After all the crap we've been through, after all the good that you've done ... Kevin, if you don't think that we would die for you ... I don't know what to tell you.” Tears fell down his cheeks and you felt your own eyes well up as you stepped forward and took his face in your hands. “Because you, me, Sam, Dean and Cas, we are all we've got. But hey, if none of that matters to you, then I won't stop you.”

****

Kevin decided to stay and you walked into the library proudly telling the brothers that he was a tough kid. Dean smiled and planted a kiss on your temple as he brushed past you to head into the kitchen.

You frowned at Sam’s forlorn look as he sat at the library table in front of his research. He didn’t look up as you moved behind him and wrapped your arms around his neck but he did grip your forearms in his hands. 

“What’s wrong?” you said in his ear. 

“Nothing,” he said. “It's just ... what Tracy said about me, she wasn't wrong.”

You sighed at the sound of Tracy’s name. The moment she’d said what she did, you knew it was going to come back and haunt Sam. 

“Move back,” you said as you straightened and moved to his side. He gave you a questioning look. “Back. Back. Move your chair back.”

He did as you asked and you straddled his thighs. His hands instantly went to your hips but you caught them in yours first.

You made sure he was looking you in the eye because it was important for him to see your face when you said what you were about to.

“Sammy, listen to me. You have helped way more people than you ever hurt. And all that … that was then. This is now.” He looked away from you as he pressed his lips together. You forced his eyes back to you. “Hey, look at me. You are not a bad person, Sammy. You never have been. You never will be. You remember that day we interrogated the demon to find a way into hell? You remember the talk we had afterward? About me being a bad person? Do you remember what you said to me?” He nodded but you repeated what he’d said anyway. “You said I wasn’t a bad person because you loved me and you knew me. That was enough for you. And that’s what I’m telling you now. You’re not a bad person, Sammy. And I know that because I love you. I know that because I know you.”

Sam’s brows tilted up and a smiled curled his lips. His eye watered and when he pulled you in for a kiss, you felt a tear fall down his cheek. 

He buried his face in your neck when he pulled away and wrapped his arms around you. You cradled him to you and gave Dean a small smile as he walked back in with a beer. 

A softness entered his eyes and you knew that he’d have to go back on his command from the day before. You loved Dean, and you wanted nothing more than to explore what happened in the kitchen with him, but Sam needed you then. 

Dean knew that. He accepted. And as he pressed another kiss to your temple and brushed his fingers through your hair he couldn’t have been happier to see that his brother had someone like you.


	33. This Nightmare Is No Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With new information that the angels are organising, finding Castiel has become the number one priority. However, on their hunt for him, the brothers struggle with the idea of lying to you, and the three of you run into a reaper bounty hunter.

Dean padded into the control room with his cup of coffee and robe. His brows furrowed as he stood at the bottom of the steps and called out your name. His voice echoed through the library. 

You had been nowhere in sight when he woke up. He’d rolled over in bed to wrap his arm around your waist and felt nothing but cool sheets. He got up, knowing that he wasn’t going to get back to sleep without you. 

It had become his favourite pastime to cuddle you in the morning. You were always so warm, soft and grumpy. It was freakin’ adorable. 

So he’d gotten up, made coffee and gone in search of you. 

“Y/N! You here?” he called again.

No sooner did the words leave his mouth than the door of the bunker opened. He turned and looked up at the top of the stairs. 

“Morning,” you said as you closed the door behind you and juggled the takeout container in your hands. 

Your smile was infectious. 

“Hey, baby,” he said with a smile as you came bounding down the stairs. He moved forward to meet you by the control room table. “You've been outside already?”

“Yeah. Woke up, went for a run – beautiful sunrise.” You pressed your lips to his. He wrapped an arm around your waist and deepened the kiss for a moment before he let you step back. “Anyways, cleaned up, went and got breakfast.” You showed him the container in your hand before putting it on the control room table. “Even grabbed you real bacon and eggs, extra grease. Better eat it before Sam gets up and lectures you.”

Dean grinned. “You’re so perfect.” You smiled back and leaned into him as he bent to kiss you again. “Wait,” he said before his lips met yours. “You went running?” 

You pulled your head back to look at him properly. “What? Why do you look so worried?”

“Let's see,” he said as he put his coffee down on the table and slumped into the closest chair. “There's Cas, who I told to haul ass here. That was days ago. He's still out there. Um, there's you.”

“Me?” you scoffed as you sat on the chair adjacent to him. “I feel great.”

Dean could tell you did. He’d never seen you look so happy and energetic. He hoped that maybe Ezekiel was doing as much for your mental state as he was for your physical state. It didn’t lessen his worry. You still had an angel inside you, and if Ezekiel was telling the truth about you dying if he left, then maybe you weren’t as healthy as you looked and felt. 

“I'm sure you do, but, baby, you went through the trials,” Dean said. “Okay? That put a big strain on you. I just think it's better if you took it easy, you know, and didn't act like you were –”

“Possessed by an angel,” you said.

Dean’s blood ran cold as his eyes flicked to you. In an instant, he backtracked over every moment he spent with you, trying to figure out when he’d let it slip, but when you looked up at him, he knew that wasn’t the case.

Your eyes were cold, your back was stiff and you weren’t smiling anymore. You weren’t his beautiful, warm Y/N. You were Ezekiel.

“And she does feel better,” Ezekiel said. “A work in progress, of course, but I am slowly healing her.”

Dean stuttered for a moment as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. It was your voice he was hearing but it wasn’t you talking. 

“That's great,” Dean finally said. “Um, but, Y/N –”

“I have news. I've picked up chatter among the angels. Not all are wandering around in confusion.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, some of 'em are after Cas.”

You – Ezekiel – leaned forward. Dean forced himself not to admire the curve of your lips or the way a simple look from you made every nerve in his body come alive. Because it wasn’t you looking at him. 

“There is a faction that is rapidly organizing and finding human vessels to contain them,” Ezekiel said.

“Led by Naomi?”

Ezekiel shook your head. “I have not heard that name, no. But it is this faction's leadership who want Castiel found.” Dean’s brows furrowed as he realised just how urgent the problem with the angels was becoming. “You see, Dean, I can be useful.”

Dean’s teeth clenched as he looked back at you. He wasn’t mad at Ezekiel but he was frustrated as hell with the situation he was in.

“So can my wife,” Dean said. “So, why don't you go check your e-mail, and if I need your help, I'll let you know.”

“Dean.”

“I said I'll let you know.”

Your eyes flashed blue then suddenly your body reanimated. It was unnerving for Dean to watch. One minute you had a cold stare and a rigid body, the next you were smiling and relaxed. Your eyes were filled with … you. 

You leaned back in your seat and dragged your fingers through your hair as Dean stared at you. “I mean, you know, Cas is human now. It's gonna take him a lot longer to travel.”

“I'm gonna get whiplash,” Dean muttered with a shake of his head as he took a sip of his coffee.

“What?” you said with a confused laugh. 

Even in his perturbed state, Dean could still find appreciation for the sound of your laugh. He wished you laughed more. 

He decided then that he was going to make you laugh more. 

“Nothing,” Dean said with a reassuring smile and shake of his head. He leaned towards you over the corner of the table. “Um, all right, so, I was thinking that if the angels are organizing, then that makes them a lot more dangerous than we thought.”

You frowned. “Why do you think they're organizing?”

Shit. Dean paused and looked up at you. It took him a very long five seconds to think of a cover up. “It makes sense. My point is, is that the more of them that are after Cas, the worse it is, so... we gotta find him.”

He’d never felt so guilty lying to someone before. Of course, he tried to tell himself that it wasn’t really lying but then Sam’s voice would come into his head and say that it was lying by omission.

The fact that the lie was saving your life was the only thing that kept Dean from spilling his guts.

****

You took a running leap and landed on Sam with a laugh. He grunted and rolled to his back beneath you as you bounced on the bed. 

“Come on, Sammy,” you said. He laughed as you fell forward to brace your hands against his chest. “It’s time to get up.”

He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. “You and Dean kept me up all night. Never realise how loud you are until I have to listen to it.”

You sank your teeth into your bottom lip before leaning down and nipping at his jaw line. 

“You mean you don’t like the way I sound when I cum?” you murmured against his ear. 

He made a noncommittal sound. 

You smiled and dragged your fingers down his naked torso to play against the waistband of his sweats. 

“Or do you just like the way I sound when I’m cumming around you?” You pushed your hand into his pants at those last words and wrapped your hand around him. 

He moaned and let his arm fall away from his face so he could look up at you. 

You grinned when you had his attention and sat back up, still stroking him with your hand as you shifted down to straddle his hips.

“Where’s Dean?” Sam said as he smoothed his hands up your thighs. His mouth fell open as your hand twisted around his tip before sliding back down to the base. 

“Breakfast. Then he’ll be showering and getting dressed. We’ve got plenty of time.”

Sam flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip as he watched your hand work beneath his sweats. The waistband lifted every now and then so he caught a glimpse of what you were doing.

“Good,” he said. His voice was gravel as he eyes lifted to the flannel you’d changed into after you’d gotten back that morning. “Take the shirt off.”

Sam couldn’t turn his eyes away from your face as you undid the buttons of your shirt. Your hair was falling into your face and your eyes were filled with lust. Your teeth sank into the bottom lip of your smile as you looked down at him.

You slid the shirt off your shoulders and tossed it to the side. Sam growled when he noticed you weren’t wearing anything underneath. 

“No underwear?” Sam said as he squeezed your inner thighs and ran his thumbs over your outer lips. “Kevin’s still around so I’m guessing Dean doesn’t know about this?”

You breathed out a sigh of content as you rolled your hips against Sam’s hands. “Promise not to tell on me?”

Sam smiled and looked up at your face and the cheeky grin you had. “That depends on what you’re willing to do for me.”

You braced your hands against his chest and shifted your hips forward until you could roll them against the place he wanted you most. His lips parted on a breathy moan. 

“I’ll do anything for you, Sammy. You should know that by now. Whatever you want. It’s yours. Always,” you said. 

There was more to that comment than sex and Sam knew it. If he was being honest, that got him going more than the prospect of any sexual favour did. The fact that you, the woman he loved, would be willing to do anything for him – even kill – was sexier than anything you could do with your clothes off. 

“Lift up,” Sam growled as he moved his hands to the waistband of his sweats. 

You did as you were told, bringing your forearms up to cover your breasts in instinctual modesty as he pushed his pants down his thighs so he could kick them the rest of the way off.

You let out a squeak when he forced your hips back down onto him. 

He let out a laugh – a carefree, non-sexual laugh. A ‘Sam’ laugh. “You’re so damn adorable when you get all sweet and innocent.” 

“I can’t help it,” you laughed as you let your arms drop. “I always get this way when you go all alpha male on me in the bedroom.” 

His smile went back to being filled with desire and sexual promises. “Good.” He squeezed your thighs. “Now, keep doing what you were before. But this time, I want you to touch yourself.” 

Once again, you did as Sam said. You let your fingers tickle along his balls in a small rebellion before you wrapped your hand around him and began pumping again. Then you wet your lips as you let your fingers drag down your stomach to the moist heat at the apex of your thighs. 

You had already worked yourself up by teasing Sam into dominance, so pure bliss enveloped you as you rubbed your fingers against your clit. 

“That’s it, baby girl,” Sam said as you got into a rhythm. “Look at me.” 

You lifted your eyes from where you worked your hand against him, only to find he’d been watching your face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said as he watched your mouth fall open and your eyes fall to half-mast. 

You let out a whine as your hips began rolling against your hand. 

“You like how that feels?” Sam moaned out as your hand twisted around his tip again. 

Your brows furrowed and your bottom lip got caught between your teeth as your curled your fingers up inside you. 

Sam’s hand landed hard on your ass, forcing a cry from your lips. 

“Answer me,” he growled. 

“Yes, Sammy,” you breathed. “I like the way it feels. I like the way you make me feel.” 

As always, you’d gone above and beyond for him. His lips curled up, even as his mouth parted with his heavy breaths, and he rubbed a soothing hand over your ass.

“Good girl.” He began rubbing his thumbs along the inner crease of your thighs. After a minute or so of running is hands along your body, becoming greedy with each squeeze and stroke, he said, “How close are you, baby girl?” 

“Close, Sammy,” you moaned. “I’m – I’m close.”

“Good. Take your fingers out. Move them back to your clit.” 

You whined but did what you were told because that’s what Sam wanted. And when he was between your legs, Sam always got what he wanted. 

“Rub it softly. Softer. There you go.” 

You growled in frustration when you realised he was telling you to keep yourself on the edge. 

“Keep edging yourself,” Sam said. “I don’t care if you have to stop for a few seconds, you don’t cum until I say you can. Understood?” 

You bit your bottom lip in need but nodded your understanding. 

“Good girl. Now, close your eyes.” 

It was an odd request from Sam, he always wanted you to look at him during sex, but you weren’t exactly in a position to argue.

“I want you to think about Dean.”

Your eyes snapped open and both your hands stopped moving at the request. 

He cocked an eyebrow at you. “You really thought I wouldn’t find out about Dean being in the kitchen when I made you cum on my hand.”

You felt your blood run cold and you pulled your hands to your stomach as you sank in on yourself and dropped your eyes from Sam’s face. You’d been stupid for pulling a stunt like that. You knew that now. 

At the time it had seemed like fun but it didn’t seem as though the brothers appreciated you trying to pull one over on them. 

“Relax, baby girl,” Sam said as he squeezed your thighs. “I didn’t tell you to stop.” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion but you slipped your hands back down to pick up where they’d left off. 

“There you go. If you want me to stop, just say so. You won’t disappoint me, Y/N. If not, close your eyes, and keep edging yourself.”

It took you a moment of confusion but you closed your eyes and took a minute to bring yourself back to the brink or orgasm. You nodded when you were back to where you were. 

Sam moaned as he felt his own orgasm rising but since he’d started dating you, he’d had plenty of practice in holding it back. 

“Do what I said before,” he groaned through clenched teeth. “Think about Dean.”

It was still the oddest request he’d ever given you but you managed to pull up a mental image of Dean. The way he looked in the wee hours of the morning was your favourite. He was all soft eyes, easy smiles and lazy touches. That was your favourite kind of Dean. 

“Did you like it when he watched you in the kitchen?” 

You nodded and he slapped your ass again. “Use your words, baby girl.” 

You had to pull your hand away from your heated flesh a moment as the sting of his slap amped up the pleasure. 

“Yes, Sammy,” you said when you could start playing with your clit again. “I liked it.”

“Why?” 

Your brows furrowed as you tried to think of an answer whilst trying to keep yourself from orgasm. 

“Um, I – I – I ... I like the way you two look at me when I’m – when I get like this. So – so having you two together ... both looking at me ... like that ... it – it,” you groaned out in frustration. “Please, Sammy. I – I can’t think straight like this. Please – please, can I cum?” 

“It’s okay, baby girl, you can open your eyes. I want you to stop touching yourself. And me.” 

You whined but, like the good girl you were, you followed his order. 

“Good girl,” he said. “I know you want to cum. But I want you to do it on my cock.”

You gave him a hopeful look and shifted forward to take him inside of you. 

“No, not like that,” he chuckled as he gripped his hips to hold you in place. He looked up at you and you smiled at seeing his ‘Sam’ smile back. 

“So eager, Y/N,” he joked.

You bit your lip as your smiled stretched to a grin and moved your hands down to cup yourself in that instinctual innocence again. 

“What can I say,” you said with a shrug. “Life’s short and you’re hot.”

Sam chuckled. “You’re such a dork.” He slapped playfully at the outside of your thighs. “Now come on. You wanna cum or not?” 

You let out a sound of excitement and nodded, bouncing on your knees in anticipation.

He chuckled again and gripped your hips in his hands, forcing you to sit still. “Alright. Then stop covering yourself and start rubbing that pretty little pussy up and down my cock. Do it until you cum. I want to feel how wet you are.”

You shivered at the idea of doing what he asked. You’d done it plenty of times before but never until you came. You were more than eager to try it out. 

A growl was all but torn from Sam’s throat as you began rocking against him. He realised then that it was going to be a lot harder to hold back than he’d initially thought. 

It was no holds bar for you this time. Yours hips moved fast as you rubbed yourself up and down his shaft. On each up-stroke, your clit rubbed against the underside of his tip. The most sensitive part for both of you. 

Your moans and gasps were loud and torn from your throat as you worked yourself up to the edge. Only this time, you weren’t stopping. 

Animalistic sounds fell from Sam’s lips. He snarled as his hands took a bruising grip on your hips.

You braced yourself against his chest again, changing the angle so your clit was being stimulated the entire time. 

You called out his name as you fell over the edge. Sam had wanted to wait until he was inside you but the feel of your thighs squeezing around his hips and your pussy grinding down onto the head of his cock had him falling over the edge not long after you. 

Sam recovered faster that you did. He loved that you were always a quivering mess up to a minute afterward. He liked watching you laugh as your body twitched and convulsed beneath him. Or, in this case, above him. 

He breathed out a laugh when you fell forward onto him with a smile.

“Damn, I love you,” he panted. 

You could do nothing but hum in content.

****

You came bounding into the library with a smile on your face. Freshly washed with a content Sam padding along behind you.

“Hey,” Dean laughed as you launched yourself at him. He caught you around the waist and easily accepted the kiss that you planted on him. “What’s got you so – oh, come on,” he growled when he saw Sam’s suggestive smile. 

He let you slide to your feet with a sigh but kept one arm around your waist as you leaned into him. 

“Really, you two? While we’ve got all this work to do?”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t’ve done it if you were me,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Shut up. Just check this out, would ya?” 

You slid away from Dean and dropped down into the chair next to him to open up Sam’s laptop. 

Dean braced his hands on the table on either side of the map he’d been drawing all over as Sam leant against the back of your chair. 

“All right, so this is where Cas called from on Tuesday – Longmont, Colorado,” Dean said. You typed the location into the search engine and scanned for strange news articles. “Each circle is how far he might have gotten in one, two, and three days out.”

“Okay. Here we go,” you said as you pulled up a news site. “The same day he called from Longmont, weird murder, same town. Cops said it was like the girl was blasted from the inside out.”

“Angel kill,” Sam said as he looked over your shoulder. “They might have just missed Cas. Unless they got him.”

You clicked on a link for similar articles in the surrounding area.

“You got an Emory Park, Iowa?” you said when you came across a story of interest.

Dean used his finger to trace through the circles he’d drawn on the map. “Emory Park. I just saw that. Yeah, a couple days outside of Longmont.”

You nodded. “Okay, because two priests were murdered there Thursday. Eyes blown out, evidence of torture. They were impaled on posts.”

“Torture?”

“Yeah.”

“Angels are looking for info,” Sam said. “If they get to him before we do ...”

“Yeah,” you said as you closed Sam’s laptop and stood. “So, we better hurry up and find Cassie.”

Sam and Dean watched as you left the library and headed to your room to pack. 

Dean looked back to his brother when you were out of sight. “This might not be the best time,” he said, “but I gotta ask. Did you to talk about … you know, the kitchen incident?”

Sam cleared his throat and straightened. “Uh, yeah. Sort of. In a way,” he said as he scratched the back of his neck.

Dean frowned and shook his head. “What? Is – is that a yes? Come on, man. Do I gotta start pulling teeth?”

“Yes, Dean,” Sam replied in frustration. “That’s a yes.” He really hoped Dean didn’t ask for details. 

“Okay, great. So …?” 

Dean clicked his fingers impatiently when Sam didn’t answer straight away.

“Right, okay, just, chill, Dean,” Sam said with a short laugh. “She – she doesn’t want a threesome. From … from what I could gather anyway.”

Dean sighed in relief. “Oh thank, God. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love that woman to death. But I don’t want to see you all naked and going up inside –”

“Alright, I get it, Dean. Just, shut up.” Sam shivered at the image Dean’s words conjured. It wasn’t exactly something he wanted to see either.

Then he thought back to your words and shrugged. “But, I mean … she still liked what happened. She liked you watching her.” Dean’s eyebrows shot up and Sam held his hands up in defence. “Hey, man, you said it yourself. You liked watching her get off.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Man, I told you never to –”

“Relax, Dean,” Sam laughed. “I get it. I do. That’s, uh … well, I – I like watching her get off too.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably and suddenly found a piece of lint on his sleeve very interesting.

“So … so, what do we do then?” Dean said.

Sam shrugged and scratched the back of his neck again. “I don’t know. I mean, she liked it. We’re not … we’re not bothered by it. So why don’t we just … you know, keep doing it.”

Dean’s brows shot up again as he looked at his brother. “Seriously?”

Sam spread his hands out to the side. “Well, yeah. I mean, why not? Right? And – and it’s practical too. Whenever she gets worked up on a long road trip … we can save money on motels.”

Dean’s brows furrowed and he shifted on his feet. “You mean, instead of getting two rooms, one of us just jumps in the back and takes care of her. And – and the other one keeps driving?”

Sam shrugged again and nodded. 

Dean thought for a moment. “Yeah – yeah, I mean, I can – I can get down with that. Can we stop talking about it now?”

“Absolutely,” Sam breathed. 

Dean breathed out his own sigh of relief and turned just as you walked back in. 

“You guys coming or what?” you said as you moved past them with a packed duffel bag on your shoulder. 

“Man, what is that woman doing to us?” Dean muttered as he watched you move up the staircase towards the bunker entrance.

“My guess?” Sam said. “She’s making us better men.” He patted his brother on the shoulder. “Come on. We should move before she gets impatient.”

Dean scoffed. “She’s always impatient.”

****

The priests had been killed and strung up on church grounds. One of the workers from the shelter in town had been raking up leaves there with a group of people. He informed you, Sam and Dean, that Cas used to work with them, only he went by the name of Clarence and skipped town the day the murders happened without telling anyone where he was going. 

After a few minutes of sorting through online news articles, Sam found another angel kill just outside a town called Lafayette in Indiana. The body had been found barbecued in a homeless camp except the man had been a pharmacist from Dayton.

“Damnedest thing I ever saw,” the police chief said as the three of you followed him through the police precinct. “Vic had a stab wound, but it's not what killed him. It's like his insides were –”

“Vaporized? It's been going around,” Dean said from behind you.

“So, this guy was a pharmacist from Ohio?” you said.

“Apparently,” the police chief said. “Total family man, religious. One day just hops in the SUV, takes off, dies under a bridge here from God knows what.” He stopped in front of a desk and handed you two plastic evidence bags filled with personal effects. “This is his stuff. Help yourselves.”

He left the three of you to it after Sam thanked him.

You spilled out the contents of both bags onto the desk, and Sam and Dean began going through them. There was standard stuff like a wallet, keys, watch and pen, but then a miniature bible was pushed towards you as Dean searched through his pile and picked up a mobile. 

You yanked your hand away like the book would burn you. 

“Anything?” Sam said.

“Nothing weird,” Dean replied. “Crappy music, a lot of podcasts, all the same one. Reverend Buddy Boyle's "Goin' for Glory Hour."

“Cop said he was religious,” you said.

Dean angled the phone he’d picked up towards you and Sam and pressed play on one of the podcasts. 

A middle-aged, balding man popped up onto the screen behind an altar. He was far too cheery for your tastes. He left a bad taste in your mouth and reminded you of the priest your grandparents had always visited. 

“Join me in a heapin' helpin' of glory, friends,” Buddy preached. You felt your nose scrunch up at the over-done, children’s show voice. “When you're in the presence of the divine, you'll know it. And if you let yourself, you'll hear it.”

Dean skipped ahead to just about the end of the video and Buddy began speaking again.

“So, remember, when angels come a-knocking, let 'em on in.”

You and Dean shared a knowing look.

“Angels can't possess a human without permission, right?” Sam said. “So, what, they're using this guy to find vessels?”

“It's a willing audience,” you said. “They're all religious types like our pharmacist here. Buddy Boyle was telling them to let the angels take them over.”

“Like body snatchers,” Dean said. “How big a reach does this Boyle guy have?”

You slipped into the chair in front of the desktop computer and brought up Buddy Boyle’s website. Clicking on the Global Influence link brought up a map with red dots covering most of the major cities in the world. 

“Pretty much the entire planet,” you said. 

****

If the military ever wanted to train soldiers to keep quiet, they just had to take them to a homeless camp – they’d show them the ropes real quick.

You sighed and shifted on your feet in irritation. 

“Look, for the billionth time, we're just looking for some information, okay?” you said to the small group in front of you. “We're not cops. I mean, do we look like cops?”

They all looked amongst each other in their everlasting silence before they looked back to you and nodded. 

With the greatest impatience you’d ever felt, you rubbed a hand over your mouth and stepped forward. “Screw it, I’m just gonna start slapping people.”

“Woah, hey, easy there, Solange Knowles,” Dean said with a nervous chuckle as he pulled you back against his chest. You went to move forward again with a scowl but he wrapped his arms around the front of your shoulders, effectively trapping you – unless you wanted to make a scene.

You sighed and slumped against him in resignation. 

“Well, we're not cops,” Sam said when you were under control. You could see the sparkle of a stifled laugh in his eye. It only irritated you more. “We just need to find a friend who's in it deep.”

“Look, he might have been here the night that guy was killed. Were any of you here then?” Dean said. 

You opened your mouth to add to their questioning but Dean slapped a hand over it. You stopped talking but exhaled very heavy through your nose so he knew you were frustrated with him – that would show him.

“Maybe.” 

The three of you looked up at the sound of a newcomer to find a man leaning against a concrete beam. 

“Oh, okay,” Dean said. “Uh, he's- he's got dark hair, blue eyes, a little out of it.”

“He maybe called himself Clarence?” Sam said. 

“Clarence, yeah,” the man said.

“You two talk?”

“Not much.”

You rolled your eyes – even growing impatient with the speed that Sam and Dean were moving at. 

You yanked Dean’s hand away from your mouth but left his arms around your shoulders as a compromise.

“You got anything of value to give us?” you snapped.

The man stared at you for a moment. You made a promise to yourself that if he clammed up now you were going to do more than slap him. 

“I think he was on the run,” the man finally said. 

“You see him with the vic- uh, victim?” Sam said.

“No.”

“Okay ...” Dean said. 

“He went off to sleep in another part of the resort.”

“Where?”

“He's not there now.”

“Where'd he go?” you snapped.

“I saw him running from under the bridge to the highway.”

Finally, Dean’s patience fell through. “Seriously, man? You know what we want. I’m gonna let this woman go if you don’t start talking. You don’t wanna know what she’ll do to you.”

The man looked down at you for another long moment before he finally said, “He flagged a truck heading north. Detroit, probably.”

“Why Detroit?” Sam said.

“Truck was marked ‘Motor City Meats’.”

****

It wasn’t until an hour or two after the homeless camp that you were sure the three of you were being tailed. 

Sam figured leaving town would mean leading him straight to Cas, so the three of you stuck around town to pick up some groceries – you were running low on road food anyway. 

As the three of you left the convenience store, Sam slung his arm over your shoulders as he teased Dean about the chemicals in his pie. Dean grumbled in return before turning the conversation to the job at hand. It was about as typical as the everyday talk between the three of you, which is exactly why the guy tailing you was none the wiser and followed you all into a poorly lit alley. 

It seemed like every hunt was getting easier. 

It wasn’t until the guy was slammed up against a chain link fence with the demon knife on his throat that he realised he’d screwed up. But when he was cuffed to an overhead beam in an old warehouse, that’s when he’d wished he’d never taken the job. 

So far, you’d figured out his name was Maurice and he was a reaper hired to track down Cas. And it turned out he wasn’t the only reaper who took cash for those kinds of jobs.

With clenched teeth, you slashed the angel blade you were holding across his chest again. He cried out as a blue light shone from the wound before dying down again. 

“So, Maurice,” Dean said as you stepped back. “You bounty hunters are like Delta Force reapers. Why would they sic you on Cas?”

Maurice grimaced. “He warded himself.”

“Naomi hire you?”

Maurice lifted his head in surprise, looking at each one of you before he chuckled and shook his head. “You really are out of the loop. Naomi's dead. Resting in pieces.”

“So then who's running things now?”

Maurice pressed his lips together. Your hand tightened around the angel blade.

“You might wanna answer him, pal,” Dean said. You could tell just by the way his voice sounded that he was smiling. “It’s my girl’s angel you’re tracking down. And trust me when I say, she can go all day.”

Maurice’s eyes met yours, and you let him know with a look that Dean wasn’t bluffing.

“Her protégé,” Maurice breathed out, “Bartholomew. He's an up-and-comer.”

“So he figured we'd lead you to Cas,” Sam growled as he stepped forward.

Maurice dropped his chin down to his chest. 

“This Bartholomew, he organizing the angels?” Dean said.

Maurice kept his mouth closed and you sliced the blade over his shoulder. He screamed again. “That's all I know.”

You pressed the tip of the angel blade to his throat and he gave you a resigned look. “You can kill me. It won't matter. If I don't find Castiel, there are others that will. But do what you want.”

“Sure,” you said. Then you pushed the blade through his throat. 

****

After driving around homeless shelters in Detroit all day, the last thing Sam and Dean wanted to do was call Ezekiel up to the plate. And even though the angel managed to track down Cas, the hardest thing for the brothers to do was give you some bullshit excuse on how they actually tracked him down. 

In fact, the only reason you swallowed the excuse with ease was because they seemed frantic to get to him all of a sudden. 

Your heart felt like it fell right out of your body when you saw Cas get stabbed. You would never forget that feeling. So when you came to against the wall of the reaper’s – April’s – apartment to find Cas alive and well, a sob escaped your throat and you all but crawled to where he still slumped back in the chair. 

“Cassie,” you said as you sat back on your heels between his thighs and stared at his previously bloody torso. “How – please tell me you’re okay.”

You pressed your hands to his stomach, reassuring yourself by touch that the stab wound wasn’t there. 

Cas watched you for a moment. He’d never seen you look so devastated before. He brought his hands to yours and squeezed them. He waited until you made eye contact with him before saying, “I’m – I’m okay, Y/N. I promise.”

You breathed out a sob and couldn’t help but smile. Then you pressed your lips together and punched him in the shoulder. 

“Never do that again,” you snapped. 

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Alright. But I'm confused. I know she stabbed me, but I'm – well, I don't appear to be dead.”

He looked to Sam and Dean for answers, knowing that you wouldn’t have seen anything. You looked to them as well. 

The brothers shared a look before Dean looked down at you and said, “Well, you got dinged.” He looked to Castiel as you slumped further to the ground and leaned against the angel’s legs. “And, uh, you. I made a deal with the reaper. Said she wouldn't get kabobed if she brought you back. She brought you back.”

“You lied,” Cas said with a smile.

Dean nodded. “I did. I do that.”

****

“You know, you never answered my question,” you said as you followed Dean into the control room of the bunker. 

At those words, Sam decided to take two very large steps away from you. Dean narrowed his eyes at his little brother but all you could do was give them a confused look. 

“How did you know where to find Cas?” you continued when Dean turned to look at you, burrito in hand. 

“I told you. I went through Maurice's pockets. I found an address and took a shot.”

You frowned. “Yeah, but … I – I never saw you go through Maurice's pockets.”

“What are you talking about?” he said. “I don't see half of the nerdy stuff that you do. It doesn't mean that you don't do nerdy stuff.”

He gave you the look that said you were being stupid. And he was right – at least, you felt stupid anyway. You felt off. Like little things weren’t making sense anymore. But then you thought about what you’d just been through. Maybe it was just a side effect of the trials. Your body still trying to heal itself. 

It was making you a crazy person, and you felt stupid every time you interrogated Sam and Dean about little things. You hadn’t been feeling on your game during hunts either. 

You’d taken a fair amount of hits in your time with Sam and Dean. But lately, it felt as though one punch was taking you down every time. You were feeling more and more inadequate about your skills as a hunter. 

You worried that the trials had done more damage than you or the brothers could see. 

Cas walked in then, with a smile on his face wearing freshly washed clothes that, for once, weren’t a suit and trench coat. 

He looked odd.

“I am really enjoying this place,” he said. “Plentiful food. Good water pressure. Things I never even considered before. There really is a lot to being human, isn't there?”

Dean sat on the table and you leaned your arm against his shoulder as you grunted in agreement at Cas’s words. 

“It ain't all just burritos and strippers, Cassie,” you said with a smile. Just because you were internally freaking out about being forever damaged, it didn’t mean you had to bring everyone down with you.

Dean grunted in agreement and bumped his fist against yours as Sam frowned and gave the both of you an amused look. 

“Yeah. I understand what you're saying,” Cas said.

“You do?” Sam said in disbelief. 

“Yes, there's more to humanity than survival. You ... look for purpose, and you must not be defeated by anger or despair. Or hedonism, for that matter.”

“Where does hedonism come into it?” Dean said around a mouthful of burrito.

“Well, my time with April was very educational.”

You scoffed. “Yeah. I mean, I would think that getting killed is something.”

Cas nodded. “And having sex.”

Dean choked on his burrito and you straightened with a shocked smile. 

“You had sex with April?” you laughed. 

“Yeah, that would be where the hedonism comes in,” Sam said as he stepped up beside you.

You waved your hand at him. “Shh.”

Cas gave Sam an awkward nod and the Winchester tried to stifle his smile.

“So … did you have protection?” Dean said.

Cas frowned and tilted his head. “I had my angel blade.”

“Oh,” you said. You gave Dean a smile. “He had the Angel blade. We should give that a try.”

Dean snorted and slung his arm over your shoulder. 

“In any event,” Cas said, “I – I do now see how difficult life can be and how well you three have led it. And I think you'll be great teachers.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said, his face still twisted in a confused smile at the new revelation.

Cas nodded. “Are there any more burritos?”

“Uh, yes,” Dean said as he pointed to the takeout bag sitting on one of the library tables. 

Dean chuckled when Cas left and let his arm fall to his side when you pulled away from him. “Our little Cas. He gave it up to a reaper. That is –”

“Castiel cannot stay here.” 

Dean felt his shoulders slump at hearing those words come from your mouth. He didn’t have to look down at your face to know it wasn’t you. He didn’t even have to hear it in your voice. He just knew by the way you said Cas’s name. Even when you were mad, you only ever called him ‘Cassie’. 

Dean watched as Sam’s shoulders tensed up as well. They both turned to look down at you. 

“He will bring the angels down on all of us,” Ezekiel said.

Sam shook his head. “No, no, he's got the Enochian tattoo. He's warded.”

“He was warded when April found him, and she killed him.”

“Yes, and you brought him back,” Dean said, “and I thank you for that, but this is Cas, okay, who vouched for you when I didn't know you from Jack. The bunker is safe.”

“Bartholomew is massing a force. We cannot stand an incursion. Castiel is in danger, and if he is here, I am in danger.”

Sam and Dean shared a look. 

“Wait,” Sam said, “you're in danger? From who, the angels?”

“If he stays,” Ezekiel said, “I am afraid I will have no choice but to leave.”

Dean’s heart leapt to his throat at hearing those words. He took an urgent step forward. “Oh, no, you can't do that. Y/N's not well enough. If you leave her body ...”

“I know. I am sorry.”

Dean had to brace himself against the back of one of the chairs as Sam leaned against the wall by the library steps. 

In an instant, Ezekiel was gone and a smile spread across your face.

“Can’t believe Cas finally got laid. And by a reaper, no less.”

You laughed at the thought and the brothers knew what they were going to do. As ashamed as they felt about the choice, you would always come first to them. 

They knew Cas’s chance of survival outside of the bunker was slim to none. And still, they chose you. 

They had always known it but that choice cemented the truth.

They would always choose you.


	34. There's No Place Like Your Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was meant to be a quiet day of binge watching TV shows at the bunker. That is until you discover the bunker computer, call Charlie and unleash the Wicked Witch and Dorothy.

With Sam out on a jog, Dean out dealing with Kevin and Crowley not co-operating, you’d resolved yourself to brainstorming solutions to the angel and Cas problem. 

Turned out, when you put your mind to it and had some peace and quiet, you were actually a pretty good problem solver. 

You were tinkering with the map at the control table when the bunker door open and Dean stepped through. 

“Hey,” you said as you gave him a bright smile and straightened. “How'd it go with Kevin?”

“Oh, that little nerd is in a lovely warded hotel room in Branson,” Dean said as he bounded down the stairs. “He's got about 48 hours of pay-per-porn and Kenny Rogers ahead of him.”

You let him press a kiss to your lips before saying, “How's he feeling?”

He shrugged and twisted the plastic bag he was holding in his hands. “Well, he stared at the Angel tablet and repeated the word ‘falafel’ for the entire ride. Kid's cracked. I'm hoping this break will, uh, clear his head. You know, after everything that happened, I figured we could use a little break ourselves,” he opened up the plastic bag, “so I, uh, picked you up season one ‘Game of Thrones’. Figured we'd get a little takeout.”

“Really?” you said with a sly smile as you wrapped your fingers around the collar of his jacket. “So … you didn’t have anything else in mind?” He gave you a blank look and you raised your eyebrows. “You know … while Sammy is out … and we have the place to ourselves … sex, Dean. I’m talking about sex.”

“Oh. Oh.” He let out a chuckle. “Right, uh, that. I mean, I guess take out and TV can wait ‘til Sammy gets back.”

You grinned and dragged your bottom lip between your teeth. Then you remembered: “Oh, wait. First, I think I might have found a way to help Cassie.”

Dean swallowed as his face filled with concern. “Did you talk to him?”

“No,” you said as you let go of his jacket and moved to lean against the table. “And, by the way, I still don't understand why he left in the first place. I mean, the bunker is the safest place for him. Bartholomew and -- and who knows how many other angels are out there, gunning for him.”

The plastic bag rustled as Dean spread his hands out to the side. “Hey, look, nobody wants him here more than I do, okay? But, uh, he felt like he'd bring trouble down on us, so he had to split. But if you got a way to help him, I'm all ears.”

Those words brought your mind back to your earlier work and you pushed off the table to turn and look down at the map. 

“Alright,” you said. “So, Kevin said the table lit up like a Christmas tree when the angels fell, right?”

Dean nodded. “So?”

“So it turns out each light was where a cluster of angels fell. So I'm thinking maybe there's some way to hot-wire this, make it track angels. That way, we could help Cassie steer clear of danger.”

He gave you a look you couldn’t decipher, as though he weren’t really talking to you when he said, “This was ... your idea?”

You gave him a confused smile and spread your hands out to the side. “Sammy’s been living the Instagram yoga instructor life all morning, you really think he came up with this?”

Dean nodded – his eyes lit up in amusement at the description you’d given his brother. Sometimes it seemed like you knew the brothers better than they knew themselves. And, the more Dean thought about it, the more he realised that was probably true.

“So, how would it work?” Dean said as he moved to stand by your side and look down at the table.

“Oh, no idea. See, at first, I thought the table was the computer, but it's not. It turns out its just part of it. But I did find these cables underneath,” you said as you pointed beneath the table, “and I followed them. You're never gonna believe what I found.”

A computer is what you’d found. But not just any computer – a good old fashioned, room-sized computer.

“Voilà,” you said after you lead Dean through the bunker and threw open the door to a computer room. 

“This is a computer?” he said as he stepped into the room and stared at the ’50s tech.

“Yeah -- or it was in 1951 when it was installed. Now, here's the crazy thing. It's not plugged into anything. I mean, I have no idea what's making this thing work. I’m good with technology, but anything before the ’90s mostly confuses me.”

Dean looked at you. “You know, when you say things like that, it makes our age gap a flashing, neon sign.”

You rolled your eyes before you lead him around the side of the computer. He pressed his hand to the back of it. 

“It's warm here,” he said. 

He straightened and looked around the room for a moment before he grabbed a flathead screwdriver from the shelf behind him. It took some strength but he managed to pop open the back panel. He stumbled back as it fell to the ground and hit the shelf behind him. 

You thought you heard something tip over but became distracted by the insides of the computer. 

You crouched down in front of it. 

“Huh,” you breathed out as you looked over the wires and parts that were so foreign to you.

“Well, that looks simple,” Dean said as he stepped up behind you. “Does it come with a manual?”

“Nothing in the archives, and I obviously couldn't find anything like it online, not to mention I'm pretty sure that the Men of Letters doesn't exactly have I.T. support anymore, either.”

The two of you stared at the guts of the computer for a moment longer before Dean ruffled your hair and said. “I think I know somebody who could help us. Come on.” 

You frowned and went to bat his hand away but he was already leaving the room. 

****

Sam came back as Dean called for his tech backup. You filled the younger Winchester in and an hour later Charlie moseyed on down the stairs with a duffel bag over her shoulder and a grin on her face. 

“Hey. Thanks for coming,” Dean said with a warm smile as he wrapped Charlie up in a tight hug. 

“Not a problem,” she said as she pulled away, “especially since I got fired last week.”

Sam’s brows shot up in surprise. “Hey, what? What happened?”

Charlie sighed and dumped her bag on the table before she turned back to the three of you. “Turns out the company I work for was outsourcing to child labor, so I took a big Wikileak all over that. And, yeah. It's cool, though. It's given me more time to focus on my hobbies ... like larping, macrame,” she gave Dean a nervous look, “and hunting.”

Alarm filled Dean’s face, Sam looked concerned, but you had to scratch your lip to hide your smile.

“Excuse me?” Dean said.

“Okay,” Charlie said as she threw her hands up in defence. “It was just a couple little cases. I took down a teenage vampire and a ghost ... which sounds like a Y.A. novel if you say it out loud.”

“How'd it go?” you asked. Dean gave you a hard look, he knew if anyone was going to encourage Charlie’s dangerous behaviour, it would be you.

“It was, uh ... it was intense,” Charlie said with a nod. “But I kind of wish hunting was more ... magical, you know?”

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Never mind,” Charlie said with a dismissive wave. “So, where is this Commodore 64 of yours?”

****

You’d never seen Charlie geek out as much as she had when she saw the computer. After a minute of her babbling on about its features – one of which being that it was the bunker’s central security system – she agreed to see what she could do about tracking the angels. 

A few hours later and she had the computer hooked up to her laptop. 

“Alright,” she said. “It took some doing, but now we can download. This beast has all the Men of Letters files. Time for a little drag-and-drop.”

“Wow,” Sam said. “Well, it's a start. Thank you. Um, that's -- that's great.”

You stood on the opposite side of the computer from the brothers, right next to Charlie. Sam and Dean gave you a pointed look and you rolled your eyes. 

“So, you've been hunting,” you said to Charlie.

“Alone,” Dean growled. So much for you taking the lead on the intervention. 

“I know,” Charlie sighed. “Not a good idea, according to the ‘Supernatural’ books.”

You coughed to cover up your laugh as the brothers shared an annoyed look.

“You really can't delete those from the Internet?” Sam said.

“Not even I can do that. Come on!” Charlie said.

“Where do you even find them?” Dean snapped.

Charlie tried to give him a serious look but she couldn’t help the smile that twitched at the corners of her lips. “A top-secret place I call Amazon. And someone uploaded all the unpublished works. I thought it was fanfic at first, but it was clearly Edlund's work.”

You frowned. “Who uploaded it?”

Charlie shrugged. “I don't know. Their screen name was beckywinchester176. Ring a bell?”

You folded your arms and gave the brothers a hard look. Dean, not so subtly, gestured towards Sam who squirmed in his seat when your eyes landed on him.

“Becky Winchester, huh?” you said. “You wanna tell me who that is, Sam?”

He cleared his throat and rubbed the palms of his hands against his jeans. “No. Uh, nobody's – uh, no, there are no bells. Uh ... no.”

Dean gave you his most charming smile. “Don’t worry, baby. I don’t have a woman on the side.”

“Dude,” Sam exclaimed as he backhanded Dean’s arm. “What the hell?”

“What?” Dean said. “Oh, come on, man. She’s messing with you.”

Sam’s eyes flicked back to you. A small smile curved your lips as you rolled your eyes at him. 

Charlie looked between the three of you as though you were all crazy before she turned her attention back to her laptop.

“Ugh, these files are encrypted,” she said. “This is gonna take a while. So, take out, sleepover, braid each other's hair?”

You smiled and held a finger up. “Got an idea.”

****

Sitting down and watching the first season of ‘Game of Thrones’ was the most relaxed you’d felt all week. It was also the longest Sam and Dean had gone without bickering over something. 

They always bickered, and sure most of the time it was fun to watch them, but lately there seemed to be a tension between them. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out what it was. 

Sometimes you would wonder if they were keeping something from you but then the guilt would kick in and you realised it was stupid to believe that. After everything the three of you had been through, the promises you’d all made to not keep any more secrets … you just couldn’t imagine they’d break that rule so easily. 

Of course, one season of a good show wasn’t enough to keep the bickering at bay forever. 

Charlie made a simple comment about Sam not being fully moved into his room and suddenly Dean was on him.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Well, I'm sorry I haven't hung up the, uh, ‘Hang in there, kitty’ poster yet, Dean,” he snapped. “Feel free to redecorate.”

“So, what, our home's not good enough for the ‘Hang in there, kitty’ poster?”

Sam scoffed. “This isn't our home. This is where we work.”

Sam hadn’t meant to hurt you but the words stung. It brought up the age old problem of when – or if – Sam was going to one day up and leave for the domestic life. 

He’d said countless times that he couldn’t live that life without you, and you believed him, the problem was when the time came you would have to choose to go with Sam and break Dean’s heart, or force Sam to live a life he didn’t want. 

It was an elephant you would gladly pretend wasn’t in the room but then Sam would say something like he’d just done and suddenly the gravity of the situation would hit you. 

You swallowed and avoided everyone’s gaze as you climbed out of Sam’s bed and left the room with a mumbled excuse.

“Great,” Dean growled at his brother. “Now look what you’ve done.”

****

You were in the kitchen, frantically spreading butter across bread when Dean found you. 

His hands slid onto your hips as he came up behind you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Do you want a sandwich?” you said. “I’m making dinner.”

“No, you’re not,” he said as you accidently tore the bread with the butter knife and cursed. 

He pressed his fingers against your hand until you put the knife down and turned you around to face him. 

“Come on, baby,” he said as he massaged your shoulders. “Talk to me.”

You sighed and scratched your forehead. “I can’t – I can’t choose between the two of you, Dean.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But what if I will have to? What if Sam finally decides to leave?”

Dean shook his head and brushed his hands against your cheeks and jawline before he returned them to your shoulders. “Sam won’t leave. Not unless he’s a hundred percent sure you’d go with him.”

You furrowed your brows and looked up at him. “But that’s just it. I don’t want him to keep being a hunter if he doesn’t want to be. Especially not if he’s only doing it for me. Just like I wouldn’t want you to give up this life just because I wanted to.”

Dean sighed. He opened his mouth to tell you that that’s what happened when you were in love. You made sacrifices. Did things you’d promised yourself you’d never do. Gave up things you’d promised you’d never let go of. 

That’s how you made it work.

Dean had lived the domestic life and it had driven him crazy after a year. He’d vowed that he would never lead a life like that again. Then you came along and he knew if you asked, he’d drop everything and follow you right into a two-bedroom home with a picket fence.

He also knew that’s not what you wanted to hear. Because you were anything if not devoted to giving Sam and Dean the lives they wanted. What you hadn’t figured out was that any life with you was a life they wanted.

It was a conversation for another day, though. 

So, instead, he lied. “Sammy didn’t mean what he said, baby.”

“People tell the most truth when they’re angry, Dean.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

Your brows shot up and a smile tugged at your lips. “It’s not?”

He shook his head. “Nope. People tell the truth when they’re drunk. When they’re angry …” he shrugged, “they just say what they know will hurt the other person.”

You nodded and dropped your eyes to the ground. “Makes sense.”

Dean smoothed his hands over your hair and tilted your face back up to him. “Sam was just trying to hurt me, sweetheart. He was stupid for not thinking about how it would affect you but I promise, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. And I promise you, he’s happy here.”

You gave Dean a thankful smile before you moved forward and let him wrap his arms around you.

****

When the decryption was finished, the four of you went back into the computer room only to find one of the shelves had been moved forward (the one Dean had fallen back into) and there was a greyish substance on the wall behind it. 

As Charlie checked the downloads, Sam and Dean moved the shelves out of the way to reveal two large pods attached to the wall – one of them appeared to be open and empty. 

You pulled your gun as Dean took out his knife and cut partway through the pod that was still closed. 

Your gun proved to be unnecessary when an arm fell out through the cut. You and Sam shared a confused glance before Dean cut the pod the rest of the way open and an unconscious woman fell out next. 

When it seemed as though the pods had come from a jar that had tipped over, you enlisted Charlie to help you go through some files to see what you could dig up. 

You’d expected hours of grueling work but you’d found a file of interest within twenty minutes.

“Holy crap!” Charlie said after you’d taken the file back to the computer room and opened it up to reveal a photo of the – now conscious – woman. “The first case investigated in this bunker involved Dorothy. She and the witch came into this room, and they never came out. This will never stop blowing my mind!”

“Okay, pace yourself, Toto,” you murmured as you looked over to where the woman – Dorothy – was wrapped up in a blanket, talking to Sam.

“Oz is real! It's part of the fairy world.”

“We have to find her,” Dorothy said.

“No, we have to talk before anyone does anything, okay?” Sam said. She didn’t reply. “Dorothy?”

“Talk?” Dorothy said. “Typical Men of Letters, standing around, having a nice, little chat with your noses buried in your books while your little secretaries take notes.” 

“I’m a hunter,” you growled. 

“Who are you calling a secretary?” Charlie snapped. 

Dorothy frowned. “You're not secretaries? You're Women of Letters? W-- how long have I been out?”

“That's why we need to talk,” Sam said. “Look, you've been gone for over 75 years. Now, according to our files, you came here to kill the wicked witch and then disappeared. What happened?”

“We couldn't find a way to kill her, so I did the only thing that I could. A binding spell that came at a price -- her soul with mine.”

“So you've been frozen with the witch for all this time?”

“Yes.” Dorothy threw off her blanket and stood with an irritated sigh. “Look, the witch cannot be killed. If I am awake, then so is she.”

“Wait, if she's here, why didn't she kill you?”

“She can't,” she said in irritation as she started towards the door. 

“You're protected by the Witch of the North's kiss,” Charlie said. She smiled at Dean. “It's from the books.”

“Oh, forget the books!” Dorothy said as she turned back to the four of you. “They're not important. I'm protected. You aren't. Now, the witch came here looking for something. I have no idea what it is. But we have to find her before she finds it.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean said. “Charlie, dig into the files. See if you can find anything that puts a dent in a witch.” Charlie gave an affirmative sound and turned to her laptop to begin. “Y/N, Sam and I will have a look-see. Come on.”

You and Sam followed Dean out of the room. Before you closed the door behind you, Dorothy stepped forward and said, “I'm helping.”

Everything about her – her stance, her tone of voice – screamed that she was a woman used to fighting for her place in a man’s world. 

You nodded at her. “Yeah, I don't doubt it. But for right now, why don't you rest up and help the smartest person in the room?” You gestured towards Charlie who ducked her head with a smile at the praise. 

****

The dungeon was one of the first places the three of you swept through. Turned out to be a good plan seeing as the shelves had been pushed back to reveal Crowley, and you knew for a fact you’d closed them that morning. 

You sighed and lowered your gun when you noticed it was only Crowley in the room. Thankfully, the boys were behind you so they couldn’t see the smile you were trying to stifle when Crowley began whistling ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’. 

“Wow. If it isn't the Scarecrow and the Tin Man,” he said when the three of you stopped on the outside of the devil’s trap. “And, of course, my little kitten, leading the pack. As always. Your new houseguest -- so misunderstood.”

You could practically feel Sam and Dean sharing a look behind you.

“Neither of you saw ‘wicked’?” Crowley said.

“What did she say to you?” you said.

“Something along the lines of ...” He bared his teeth and let out a loud hiss.

“Alright, well, I'm gonna go get some holy oil and a lighter, dick bag,” Dean growled. 

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I know what she's looking for.”

“What does she want?” Sam said.

Crowley smiled. “I'd be happy to tell you, as soon as I get to stretch my legs.”

You shook your head with a smile of disbelief. Stretching his legs was the very thing you’d told him he couldn’t do that morning. 

You held your hand out to the side, palm up. Dean sighed and dug through his pocket before he slapped the keys into your hand. 

You stepped into the trap as Sam and Dean lifted their guns to aim at Crowley. 

The moment you took the neck cuff off him, Crowley stood with a groan and rotated his neck. 

Dean told you to step back out of the trap but you sat atop the table with your back to him instead. 

Crowley grinned at your small rebellion and squeezed the end of your nose between thumb and forefinger. 

“Alright. What does the witch want?” you said when he let go.

He held a finger up. “Patience, kitten. I still need to air myself out.”

A gunshot echoed through the room, making you leap from the table in shock. 

“I think you're aired out enough,” Dean growled as a patch of blood bloomed across Crowley’s chest.

“What the hell, Dean,” you snapped.

He ignored you.

“Rude,” Crowley grunted. 

Nevertheless, he picked up the piece of paper you’d left with him that morning and showed the boys. It had the word ‘key’ written on it.

“Key? What key?” Sam said.

“I haven't the foggiest,” Crowley replied. “Had to send her off on a merry chase before she could melt me. Told her you boys kept the keys in the kitchen. You do have a kitchen in this crap hole, don't you?”

****

Dean wasn’t happy when the three of you entered the kitchen, guns drawn. Not because there had been a witch in there but rather because of what she’d left behind.

“Damn it,” he growled as he looked over the pulled out draws and turned over pots. “I just cleaned in here.”

You gave him a deadpan look over your shoulder. “Really?”

“Looks like we got a witch here,” he said.

The three of you lowered your guns as you stepped further into the kitchen. When you reached the counter, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye and turned with your gun raised.

You lowered it with an irritated look when you realised it was Charlie and Dorothy. 

“Sorry. We raided your gun range,” Charlie said as she held up a gun. “Made us some poppy bullets.” She pulled five bullets from her pocket and held them out. “They won't kill the witch, but they will stun the crap out of her.”

Dean picked up three of the bullets and inspected them. “That's my girl,” he said with a proud glance at Charlie.

“There was only enough for five bullets, so ... make each shot count.”

You and Sam took a bullet each from Dean and put them on the top of your clips before loading them into the chambers. 

“Now we just have to find her before she finds whatever the hell's she's looking for,” Dorothy said.

“She's looking for a key,” you said.

“How do you know?” Charlie said.

You glanced back at the brothers. “Little birdie told us. Ring any bells, Dorothy?”

Dorothy nodded. “Unfortunately. It's the key to Oz.” She took a step towards you. “There are magical ways into Oz -- tornado, eye of a hurricane, whirlpool -- but this key will turn any locked door into a portal to Oz. Insert key, twist, and presto, you're in Oz.”

“How did the Men of Letters get the key?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea, but if she finds it, she'll go back and finish what she started. She'll destroy all that is good in Oz. She's got armies of witches, flying monkeys. Many will die.”

“What's this key look like?” Dean said.

Dorothy pulled a journal from the inner pocket of her jacket. She flipped it open to a page and turned it around to show Dean a drawing.

“I've seen that key,” he said with a frown. He looked to you and Sam. “Found it when I was doing inventory.”

“Where is it now?” Dorothy said.

Dean looked at her. “My room. We got to get to that key. Alright, Charlie and I will go look in my room. Why don't you guys buy us some time?”

You nodded and lead Sam and Dorothy out of the kitchen and towards the control room. 

“I can't believe I've lived here for 75 years,” Dorothy said as the three of you headed towards the steps that lead up to the library. “How long have you called this place home?”

You were a little way ahead of them, so Sam kept his voice low when he said, “My brother and Y/N call it home,” Sam said. “Me, I, uh -- I haven't had that much luck with homes.”

“Me neither. Overrated, you ask me,” Dorothy said. She smiled. “Yellow bricks or not, give me the open road any day.”

“Sam!”

Sam looked towards you when you yelled his name. You had your gun aimed at him. 

Lucky for him, Dorothy had a clear shot at the witch standing right behind him. She used her poppy bullet and the witch evaporated into a green mist before swirling up into a vent. 

“She can get anywhere from there,” you said. “Split up. We’ll cover more ground.”

****

Dean was worrying over Charlie when you found him. She was dead, Dean could see that. The witch had come in just as he found the key. She’d overpowered him easily enough and taken the key but that wasn’t enough for her. 

While Dean was lying helpless on the ground, the witch had tried throwing a bolt of green lightning at him. Without thought, Charlie had thrown herself in front of him. 

She died on impact. 

And now here Dean was, his heart breaking and filling with guilt as he looked down at Charlie’s lifeless body. He’d only paired her up with him so he could make her go to the dungeon and stay safe. He should have tried harder when she’d refused. 

Just when he thought there was nothing he could do, he heard you call his name and come running down the hall. 

“Zeke!” Dean called just as you came in the doorway. 

Your eyes flashed blue, and you went from determined and half-crouched with your gun raised, to standing straight with your gun lowered and a stoic look on your face in seconds.

“You have to help her,” Dean said. 

Ezekiel stepped further into the room and looked down at Charlie. “She’s gone.”

“No,” Dean snapped in a panic. “You can bring her back like you did with Cas.”

“I cannot keep doing that.”

It hurt Dean to hear your voice say you wouldn’t bring Charlie back. If it was you, really you, you would have done everything to bring Charlie back. Even if it meant risking your life. 

“Why the hell not?!” Dean growled. 

“I am barely back to half-strength, Dean,” Ezekiel said. “Every time I use my power, it weakens me, which means I will have to stay in your mate longer than you want -- longer than we both want. The witch running around your bunker is very powerful. I can help with the witch or save your friend.”

Dean looked down at Charlie. There was no competition, and even if there had been, Dean knew what you would choose.

“Save her,” he said.

Ezekiel nodded your head. “As you wish.”

He approached Charlie, placing your gun on the dresser as he passed by it, and knelt at the side of the bed. Dean had to look away from you and focus on Charlie. It seemed as though it got harder to watch every time Ezekiel took control of your body. 

Charlie gasping, sitting up and saying, “Merry Christmas,” was enough to snap Dean out of it. 

You fell against the dresser unconscious. 

“Charlie?” Dean said.

Charlie looked up at him with dazed eyes. “Uh. Hey, I know you.”

“I told you to stay in the dungeon.”

Charlie breathed out a laugh. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

Dean looked to you when you jolted awake and said his name.

“Baby?”

“What the hell just happened?” you said as you looked around the room in confusion.

Dean straightened and looked between you and Charlie. “The witch -- the witch was about to put a whammy on me, and, uh, Charlie jumped in front. She got zapped, then the witch got the drop on you.”

You climbed to your feet and picked up your gun from where it sat on the dresser. “Then why aren't we dead?”

“That's a good question,” Dean said with a shrug and a half-hearted smile. “I, uh -- I clipped her with a -- with a poppy bullet. She got the key. I think she's gone.”

“No,” Dorothy panted as she appeared in the doorway. “She's wounded. We should still have some time. She could still be in the air vents.”

“No. No, no. She's right,” Charlie muttered as she tried to stand. “We -- we have to -- we –” 

She swayed on her feet and Dean caught her before she could fall. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he admonished as he lowered her back to the bed. 

“Just go. We'll catch up,” Dorothy said as she stepped into the room and looked at Charlie. 

Charlie gestured to you and the dresser behind you. “M-my gun's over there. There's one bullet in it.”

You nodded, handed the gun to Dean and left with him. You were still trying to fill in the blanks of your memory. One moment you were running into the room, the next you were passed out by the bed. 

And there was one other thing: “Who's Zeke?”

Dean’s spine stiffened and he glanced over at you as the two of you prowled the halls of the bunker.

“What?” he said.

“When I came into your room, before I got zapped, I thought you said the name, Zeke. Who's that?”

“Um ...” He shrugged. “I think you're still a little punchy, baby. Just keep moving.”

The answer confused you even more. You were positive you’d heard him say it. And even if he hadn’t, why would you think he did?

The two of you bumped into Sam in the control room. Dean gave him the watered down version of what happened, then he gave him the real version when you were ahead of them and out of earshot.

“Are you serious? Dean, we gotta be careful. If she finds out –”

“You don’t think I know that?” Dean growled as he watched you search the control room. “Charlie was dead, man. What the hell was I meant to do?”

Sam didn’t have an answer for that.

“Hey, uh, can I ask you something?” Dean said as he Sam began searching the side of the room that you weren’t. “Why haven't you moved in?”

“Is now really the time for this, Dean?” Sam said. 

“Well, just asking.”

Sam stopped and turned to him. “Look, I never had what you had with mom and dad, okay?”

Dean frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I don't have any memories of home. And whenever I've tried to make a home of my own, it really hasn't ended well.”

“Yeah, but a lifetime of abandoned buildings and crappy motel rooms. I mean, this is about as close to home as we're gonna get, and it's ours.” Sam pressed his lips together. “Y/N is here, man. If that doesn’t make this home, then, hell, I don’t know what will.”

****

The witch had gotten the drop on the three of you. If that wasn’t bad enough, she’d managed to bury into your minds with her magic and send you all on the hunt for Charlie and Dorothy. 

To Dorothy’s credit, she managed to hold off the three of you and buy Charlie some time as she hunted down the witch – with magic red heels no less.

You came back to yourselves in the garage. You and Sam were holding a bloodied Dorothy still while Dean had the demon knife at her throat. 

You all stepped away from her like she burned.

“What the hell just happened?” you said as you looked down at your hands. The last thing you remembered was the witch having her arm around your neck and Dean taking the both of you to the ground.

Dorothy smiled when she saw the three of you were back to yourselves. “Charlie,” she said.

You found her on the balcony in the control room. You’d never felt so much relief when you saw her leaning over the railing with the Oz key in hand and the witch a pile of rags at her feet.

“Ding-dong, bitches,” she said with a grin.

****

You were carrying Charlie’s duffel bag as you and she entered the garage to join Dorothy and the brothers. You smiled when you saw the Impala now sitting in the middle of all the vintage cars. 

“Baby looks good in here, huh?” Dean said with a smile when he saw you.

You grinned. “Depends. Which baby are you talking about?”

He chuckled but didn’t get a chance to reply before Charlie was motioning him off to the side with her. You and Sam talked with Dorothy and gave her one of the books her father had written. 

You glanced over to Dean and Charlie to find they were having a heated discussion. Well, Dean’s side of the argument was heated. Charlie looked about as persuasive as ever. You smiled when Dean seemed to roll his eyes and nod in resignation. 

“Not bad for a bunch of librarians,” Dorothy said when Charlie and Dean joined the three of you. “You mind keeping an eye on my bike for me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said with a smile, “as long as you don't mind me taking it for a spin once in a while.”

She squinted her eyes in faux thought for a moment before she smiled and said, “Deal. Thank you for everything. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rebellion to finish.” She looked at Charlie. “So, you coming or what?”

Charlie’s jaw dropped. “What? With you? To Oz?”

“Yeah. You said you were looking for adventure. Well, here it is, Red. Come help me find my damn dog.”

“You have no idea what's in Oz,” Dean said in concern. “I mean, t-there's flying monkeys, armies of witches. There's all kinds of danger.”

Charlie’s face lit up. “Promise?”

You laughed then grunted when she jumped at you and wrapped her arms around you. 

“If you need anything, just, uh, tap your heels together three times, okay?” you said as she hugged the brothers next. 

“Me?” she said when she pulled back. “What about you crazy kids? You gonna be all right without me?” 

Dean shrugged when she looked at him.

Her eyes landed on you next. “Take care of them, yeah?”

You smiled. “Always.”

Charlie and Dorothy turned and approached the double doors at the end of the garage. You watched on in awe as Dorothy inserted the key into the doors and pushed them open to reveal a beautiful landscape with a yellow-brick road running through it. In the distance, you could see the Emerald City. 

The looked back and waved once before starting down the road.

“Holy shit,” you murmured as you walked up to the doors and stopped just before stepping onto the road yourself. 

You had an almost unyielding urge to run after Charlie and Dorothy. 

“You go in there, and I swear to everything that is holy, I will hunt your ass down.”

You smiled and glanced up at Dean who was now right behind you. 

“Promise?” you said.

Sam’s arm snaked around the front of your shoulders so he could pull you back against his chest. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

The doors began closing on their own. A clunk echoed through the room when they shut. 

Dean pushed them back open to reveal only the driveway that led up and out of the bunker. 

“Think she'll be back?” Dean said.

“Of course,” Sam said. He looked at his brother and smiled. “There's no place like home.”


	35. A Dog Dean Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a hunt for a man who can adopt animal-like qualities, Dean participates in an Inuit spell that'll allow him to talk to a dog that's witnessed the monster. Dean gets more than he bargains for, however, when he realises he can talk to all animals and can't get the thought of bending you over and taking you from behind out of his mind.

Sam fell back on his heels, panting. You laughed as the endorphins from your orgasm pumped through your body. He breathed out his own laugh as he watched you writhe in the sheets of his bed. 

“So good to me, Sammy,” you slurred as you grinned and stretched your body out. 

He laughed again and leaned down to press kisses against your spine when you rolled to your stomach. 

He expected you to crash in moments and fall asleep but suddenly you leapt from the bed in drunken excitement – only it wasn’t alcohol you were drunk on. Sam felt a brief moment of male pride at the fact you were drunk on the way he’d just made you feel but that was cut short when you started for his bedroom door, slurring something about food. 

The problem was, you were stark naked. 

“Y/N. Baby, wait, you can’t go out yet,” he said as he hurried off the bed to pull his jeans back on and pick his flannel up. 

“Why not?” you whined as you turned to look at him with – what he was sure you thought was – an angry look. Really, it was just a childish pout that made you look far too adorable for your own good. 

“Because,” Sam said with a stifled laugh as he struggled to get your arms through his flannel, “you can’t go running around the bunker naked.”

You threw your arms up in the air and let your head fall back with a whine. You were looking more and more like a little kid by the second.

“But Dean sees me naked all the time! I like being naked,” you said.

Sam chuckled as he began doing up the buttons of the flannel. “I know you do.”

“Then that settles it. I’m running around naked.”

You pulled out of Sam’s grip and pulled his bedroom door wide open before you ran out into the hall. The flannel flapped behind you, only having one button done up over your breasts. 

Sam sighed before jogging after you. Dean had brought Kevin home earlier, so he was likely to kill Sam if he found out you were running around the bunker in the state you were in.

Unfortunately, Sam’s luck had never been very good.

As you ran into the control room, Dean came in from the hallway that led to Kevin’s room. 

“Dean,” you cried with a bright smile as you launched yourself at him.

The elder Winchester grunted as he caught you and Sam came jogging in behind you.

“Hey, baby,” Dean said, his voice light even as he was narrowing his eyes at Sam over your shoulder. “Looks like someone’s been getting lucky, huh?”

You giggled and nodded enthusiastically as Dean set you down on the control table. 

“What’s more important – why are you running around barely clothed?” Dean gave his brother a pointed look. “What, you couldn’t dress her properly?”

Sam scoffed. “You’re joking, right? Are you seeing her right now?”

Dean looked down at you. His eyes went wide and his brows furrowed when you grabbed his face in your hand, squishing his lips up as you said, “I just wanted to see this handsome face, Dean.”

You let your hand fall from his face and smiled as you hummed in content. He had to catch you before you could hit your head when you fell back. 

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean growled as he held you up and tried to button your shirt at the same time. “How many times did you make her cum? You know she turns into the drunk white girl at the rave when you give her more than three.”

Sam rolled his eyes as he padded forward and sank down into one of the chairs. He was exhausted after chasing you around right after a bout of vigorous sex. 

“She’s my wife, Dean. I can make her cum as many times as I want,” Sam said as he opened up the laptop he’d discarded earlier when you’d decided to crawl under the table and have your way with him.

“I second that,” you said as you threw a hand up. 

Dean managed to get the last button of the flannel done up before he growled, “Not when Kevin’s here. Do you want him to see her like this?”

Sam ignored the question and instead asked how the kid was doing. 

“Had to pour buffalo milk down his gob. Twice,” Dean said as he continued to try and make you presentable despite your squirming. 

“Buffalo milk?” Sam said. 

“Yeah, the hangover cure-all. It's got everything in it. Except buffalo milk.”

Sam scoffed. “How is that kid still recovering from Branson?”

“What can I say? He's an amateur. The slippery nipple shots at the Dolly Parton Dixie Stampede nearly killed the guy.” Dean caught you when you fell back again. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said as he wrapped your thighs around his waist and threw your arms over his shoulders. “You’re gonna crash any second now. I can see it.”

He hoisted you up and moved to sit down in the chair beside Sam’s, letting you straddle his lap as he rubbed a hand up and down your back in an attempt to coax you into sleep. 

“Alright. Well, uh, I got something that's gonna get us back on the road,” Sam said.

“A case?”

“Yeah. Y/N found it earlier before she, uh …” Sam cleared his throat, knowing Dean didn’t want to hear the details of what you’d done to his little brother.

“You sure she’s ready for that?” Dean said.

Sam looked at you but you were already falling into a slumber. You were too far gone to hear either of them. 

“Why wouldn’t she be ready for that?”

Dean went to shrug but stopped himself when you stirred. “She just seems to be running on empty lately.”

“Yeah, but the last three nights straight, she had eight hours of shut-eye. For a hunter, that's like 20. Trust me, Dean. I think she’s doing good.”

“Well, that's great and all but she’s still recovering from the trials. I think she ought to pace herself, you know? And the sooner she heals ... I just want her back to her old self.”

Sam nodded. “I get it. You want Ezekiel out fast. But she’s doing great, Dean. Kevin’s back on the heaven spell. Crowley’s locked up. She’s gonna get suspicious if we don’t go out there and do what we do best.”

Dean agreed but it sounded more like he was placating Sam rather than actually agreeing with him.

“You want to listen at least?” Sam said. Dean threw a noncommittal hand up. “Okay, great. Taxidermist named Max Alexander mysteriously crushed to death. Nearly every joint in his body dislocated, every bone broken. Poor guy is a human pretzel. You tell me what's got that kind of strength.”

“A demonic luchador?” Dean said as he began combing his fingers through your hair.

Sam sighed in annoyance. “Shop's a couple hours away in Enid, Oklahoma. We should at least check it out.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Not until Y/N wakes up, though. You gotta stop wearing her out, man.”

****

The front door and wall of the taxidermist’s shop had been slathered in red paint that read ‘die scum’. You were going to take a wild guess and say that whoever had painted that probably had something to do with Max’s death. 

Sam took a few photos of the tag with his phone – mostly focusing on the paw print and inverted triangle that had been scratched into the letter M – before letting you and Dean go through the door. 

You stopped short just inside, shocked at the multitude of animal heads mounted on the walls and stuffed animals lying around the shop. 

“Well, the creep factor just skyrocketed,” you muttered. 

A sheriff came round the corner with his hands up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said as he blocked the three of you from going further.

Sam, ever the diplomat, said, “How are you? Agents Michaels, Deville and Styx.” 

The three of you held up your FBI badges and the Sheriff nodded in understanding.

“The body's already been to the morgue. Just wrapping it up with Dave Stephens. He's the one who discovered the body. Such a shame. I used to go hunting with Max. He was a real good egg.”

“Sorry for your loss,” you said.

The Sheriff pressed his lips together as he nodded his thanks.

Dean stepped up beside you and rested a hand on your shoulder. “You mind showing my partners around? I just got a couple questions for Mr. Stephens.”

The Sheriff gave the affirmative and Sam’s hand landed on your lower back to guide you ahead of him as the two of you followed the Sheriff. 

With a lingering look after you, Dean approached the man leaning against the glass counter.

“Dave Stephens?” The man lifted his head with a solemn look and nodded. “I just got a couple questions for you if that's all right.”

“I'll tell you whatever you need to know,” Dave said. “Max was a ... a real pal.”

Dean had to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Hunting buddy?”

Dave gave him an impressed look. “Yeah.”

“Lucky guess,” Dean said with a smile. “So, uh, about what time did you discover the body?”

“About 9 a.m. – my usual pickup time. I come in every Wednesday and Sundays, uh, to collect the entrails.”

“The what?”

“The animal organs.”

Dean’s nose wrinkled. His eyes slid to you as Dave began talking about how Max was an artist. He had to press his lips together to prevent himself from laughing when he saw you hold up a stuffed squirrel in a dress with a bow. 

You looked to Dean with a stifled smile of your own and presented it up by your head as though you were a game show model. 

Dean coughed to hide his laugh when you almost dropped it. 

“Strange thing is, though, uh, bins were empty this morning,” Dave said.

Dean looked back at him. “Why is that strange?”

Dave shrugged. “Well, because it's a Sunday. Weekend hunts are pretty much a given in this neck of the woods, so they're usually chock-full of guts.”

Dean nodded. “Ah. Any chance Max could have cleaned them out himself?”

“No. It's a – it's a biohazard,” Dave said with a vigorous shake of his head. “You can't just, you know, throw the stuff out. You got to burn it.”

The Sheriff approached Dean and Dave just then. 

“Is there, uh, anything else missing from the shop?” Dean said to the Sheriff.

“No. The register was full, and the safe was intact. And all of Max's trophies were still on the walls,” the Sheriff said.

“And was there anybody else here when you showed up?”

“No one. No, other than, uh ... the Colonel.” He looked over his shoulder at the German Shepherd that an officer had on a leash. 

Dean wasn’t surprised to see you crouched down petting the dog. If there was one thing you and Sam always teamed up against Dean about, it was how great dogs were. 

Sam approached the three of them just then and Dean excused himself from Dave and the Sheriff to talk to him.

“So?” Sam said when the two of them were a short distance away. He glanced at you as he said it. 

Dean knew the feeling of needing to look at you every few minutes or so. Whether it was because you almost died and he liked the sight of you bustling about or not, he didn’t know but he wasn’t about to question it.

“Okay, so, uh ... we got a thief who's jonesing for animal parts,” Dean started, “we got a pagan symbol, and we got a human pretzel.”

“Yeah, it all sounds very witch-y, but I wasn't able to find a hex bag,” Sam said. 

“Alright, well, let's keep digging.” Dean looked up at a stuffed owl that was mounted far above their heads. “But, uh, not here. I don't like the way that one's looking at me.”

Sam looked up and scoffed. “Right, uh, you can go get Y/N then. She’s already talking about adopting the dog.”

Dean scowled and jabbed a finger in his brother’s direction. “That’s not happening.”

Sam stifled a smile and held up his hands in surrender. He let them drop and chuckled as he watched Dean approach you, argue with you, then just wrap an arm around your waist and hoist you up from the floor and towards the front door. 

Your arms flailed out to reach for Colonel as you complained to Dean about the ‘horrible life he’ll live without you’. 

****

A short stop at the motel and an internet search later showed that the symbol found on the death threat hadn’t been a wiccan symbol at all. Rather it was the logo for a local animal-rights group called SNART.

And whilst you were all for animal rights, getting past the name wasn’t something you could do. Especially since two members you’d tracked down owned and ran a vegan bakery called ‘Gentle Earth’. 

“Always knew I'd find the source of all evil at a vegan bakery,” you said as you, Sam and Dean entered the store.

Sam sniffed. “What's that smell?”

“Patchouli,” Dean said. “Yeah, mixed with depression from meat deprivation.” 

He nodded towards the man and woman behind the counter serving customers. Their faces were mostly covered by the large, dark sunglasses they wore. 

“You know who wears sunglasses inside?” Dean said. “Blind people. And douchebags.”

You shoot Dean an amused glance over your shoulder before leading the two of them to the counter. 

“Olivia and Dylan Camrose?” you said.

The woman smiled. “At your service.”

“You two are members of SNART?” Sam said.

Olivia gave Dylan an amused look. “Founders and co-presidents, actually.” She picked up a brochure from the counter and held it out to Sam as though it were a treasure. “Uh, can we interest you in some literature?”

Sam gave her a polite smile and made a ‘no’ gesture with his hand. 

“Or a flaxseed scone?” Dylan said. “It's wheat-free, gluten-free, sugar-free, and surprisingly moist.”

“Let me stop you right there,” you said as you shared a look with Dean. The three of you pulled out your FBI badges. “Uh, we're here to investigate the death of Max Alexander, a local taxidermist.”

“He's ... dead?” Olivia said as she shifted on her feet. Guilt was written all over her face.

“You knew him?” Sam said. 

“Ish. Um ... small town.”

“Well, he was murdered last night, and a SNART logo was found at the crime scene. You two wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Olivia and Dylan shared a look. 

When it was clear that they’d been at the crime scene, the two of them sat down with you, Sam and Dean around a table by the counter. 

“His business is funded by hunters, and you know how hunters are,” Dylan said. “They're selfish dicks who define themselves by what they kill.”

Sam and Dean glanced at each other over your head while you narrowed your eyes at the man. 

“And as animal advocates, we couldn't stand for that,” Olivia said.

“So, you killed him?” Sam said with a confused frown.

“Of course not. SNART doesn't tolerate violence.”

“Huh,” Dean scoffed. “This coming from a couple who spray-paints death threats.”

“It was a scare tactic,” Dylan said. “We just wanted to spook him.”

“Turns out we were the ones who got spooked,” Olivia said.

“What does that mean?” you said as you leaned forward. 

The couple shared and look and Dylan nodded. Olivia looked back at you.

“Well, last night,” she started, “when we were tagging the joint, we heard this noise.”

“A hissing noise,” Dylan interceded. 

“It freaked us out, so we ran out into the alley.”

“But someone attacked us.”

“Sprayed us in the eyes with mace.”

“And it's not like we could go to the cops.”

Just when you thought you were going to get whiplash from looking back and forth between them constantly, Olivia finished with, “So, now we look like total douchebags because we have to wear our sunglasses inside.”

With a sheepish look, the two of them pulled their sunglasses off to the reveal blotchy, red skin around their eyes. 

You and Sam sat back in your chairs with a grimace as Dean motioned for the couple to put their glasses back on. 

****

The case had the three of you stumped. You’d discovered that the reaction around Olivia and Dylan’s eyes was caused by snake venom and not mace. The problem was, snakes either envenomed or constricted. They didn’t do both. 

Sam’s first thought had been that it was a Vetala but Dean quickly shot that down by pointing out that they liked to bite and the taxidermist was bite-free. 

So the three of you were stumped and calling Kevin to see if he could dig some stuff up. 

Dean got a call on his cell in the morning about another victim. He’d tried to get you out of bed but all of a sudden you felt so drained and tired that he had to all but dress you just to get you out of the motel room. 

You perked up a little on the drive to the crime scene. Even more so when you realised it was in an animal shelter. 

Dean groaned and warned you not to ‘get handsy with any dogs’ before going in. 

The victim worked in the animal shelter, and unlike the last one, he was covered in claw marks. Much like the last crime scene, however, something had gone missing – all the cats.

“Right, so, yesterday, uh, we're dealing with some sort of a snake monster. Today, it's a killer kitty,” Dean said as the three of you slowly traipsed past the kennels filled with barking dogs.

“I don't know,” Sam sighed.

Dean stopped in front of a kennel suddenly and frowned as he looked down at the dog in it. “Hey. Why does that mutt look familiar?”

“Colonel!” you cried out as you fell to your knees ad reached through the wire gate to pat the German shepherd. 

Dean rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Just my luck.”

“This was the taxidermist's dog? So, he's been at both crime scenes?” Sam said as Dean tried and failed to get you up on your feet. 

“Maybe he's a suspect,” Dean growled when he gave up on dragging you away from the dog. “You know may–” he broke off his sentence and scratched the back of his head as an officer walked by. “Could be a skinwalker, maybe a shapeshifter.”

You heaved out a sighed and looked up at Dean. “Would you cut it out? Colonel is not a monster.”

Dean smiled and held up a silver dollar. “One way to find out.” He knelt down beside you and held the coin through the wire. “Come here, boy. Hey. This isn't gonna hurt at all. Unless it hurts.” Colonel nudged Dean’s hand with his nose and allowed him to rub the coin along the skin behind his ear. 

Colonel didn’t react. 

“Huh.”

You gave Dean a deadpan look. “I guess we can, uh, rule out killer.”

Colonel barked and you jumped in fright at the sudden sound, punching Dean in the arm when he gave you a smug look. 

You stood and turned to find the Sheriff standing there. He took his hat off and colonel stopped barking. 

“Do you agents need any further assistance?” he said.

“Officer, I think we're okay. Thanks,” Sam said as Dean straightened next to you. 

The Sheriff nodded. “Alright, well, let me know.” He slipped his hat back on and Colonel began barking again. 

“Officer. Excuse me,” you said. The Sheriff turned to look at you. “Uh, can I borrow your hat?”

He took his hat off without question and handed it to you. Colonel stopped barking. You put the hat on yourself and he began barking again.

“Good luck getting adopted,” the Sheriff said to Colonel when you handed the hat back. 

You gave Dean a look and he narrowed his eyes, knowing you were silently arguing with him over adopting Colonel. 

“Okay, so, Colonel's not a suspect,” Sam said when the Sheriff left the kennels. 

“Yeah, but he's a witness,” Dean said. He looked down at colonel with a sardonic smile. “Hey, boy. You speak sign language?”

You rolled your eyes. “That's monkeys.”

Dean frowned at you. “Huh?”

“You know what? This is gonna sound crazy,” you said as you pulled out your phone. “I read this book once about this guy who tried to teach his dog to speak after it witnessed a murder.”

“It worked?” Dean said.

“No.”

“But he wrote a book about it?”

“Yeah, well, he doesn't have what we have,” you said as you called the contact you were looking for on your phone. “Kevin. Hey, it's me. How do we speak to a dog?”

****

Sam and Dean sat at the small table in the motel across from each other. You were on the floor – much to Dean’s chagrin – next to the table with Colonel curled up halfway in your lap. 

“An Inuit spell,” Dean said as he watched Sam begin mixing ingredients into a liquid. 

“Yeah. Who knew the, uh, Men of Letters had its own Eskimo section?” you said.

“And it's supposed to let us communicate with Colonel?”

Sam leaned down and plucked a hair from Colonel’s coat. The dog lifted its head but forgot all about the slight pinch when you began scratching him behind the ears again.

“Yeah, well ... that's the plan,” Sam said as he put Colonel’s hair into the bowl and stirred it in with the rest of the ingredients. 

“Kevin said it's like a sort of a human/animal mind meld,” you said.

“Meaning?” Dean said. 

“If it works, we should be able to read Colonel's thoughts.”

Sam poured the contents of the bowl into a glass and sat it on the edge of the table for you to reach. It hadn’t even been a question whether or not you would do it – and Sam knew better than to ask if you would or wouldn’t – but just as you reached for the glass, Dean grabbed it and pulled it to his chest.

“I'll do it,” he said. “You – you got enough on your plate.”

Sam gave him a hard look that you couldn’t decipher. 

“Like what?” you said with a frown.

“Uh, like ... you're tired. You're on the mend. Okay? Plus, you – you've got a sensitive stomach. Last thing we need is you chucking this stuff up. Huh?”

You scoffed and settled back as you squeezed Colonel to you. There was no arguing with Dean when he had his mind set on something. And you knew better than to ask Sam for help. He never took sides when you and Dean fought. Not unless it was absolutely necessary. 

“Doesn't look so bad,” Dean said as he swirled the red liquid around in the glass. He took it all down in one gulp. “I was wrong.” He gestured to Sam for the Inuit spell book. “Come on.”

Dean cleared his throat and coughed a few times before reading out the spell and looking down to where Colonel laid in your lap. 

“Alright. Let's get this party started. Tell me everything you know.” Colonel lifted his head but only to let out a long yawn. “What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Dean laughed at his own joke. You and Sam shared a look. “Tough crowd.”

Colonel barked and Dean shook his head to say he didn’t understand.

****

With the spell a bust, Sam had ordered in some food and you’d moved from the floor to his lap as the three of you ate. 

“So, call Kevin,” Dean said as he finished up with his meal and wiped his hands. “Spell tasted like ass and was a bust.”

“At least it didn't affect your appetite,” you laughed.

Dean looked up at the sound of your laugh and suddenly had the unrelenting urge to fuck you. Sure, sex was always an underlying thought when you were in the room. Dean knew Sam felt the same. But in that moment, everything else was drowned out. There was nothing except the urge to throw you on the bed and – “Change the station.”

Dean frowned. He realised he’d been watching you with something akin to a predatory look. Thankfully, you’d been too distracted whispering and joking with Sam – as lovers often did – to pay attention to Dean’s drooling. 

“Change the station.”

There was that odd male voice again. 

Dean looked down at Colonel to find him sitting up straight and watching him intently.

“What?” Dean said to him.

“What?” Sam said. 

“You – shut up. It's working!”

“It – go!” you stuttered as you leaned forward and looked at Colonel. 

Dean looked back down at the dog and swallowed. “Say that again.”

“You call this classic rock? Next thing you know, they'll be playing Styx,” Colonel said. “And Dennis DeYoung? A punk.”

Dean scowled. He knew there was a reason he hated dogs. “Dennis DeYoung's not a punk. He's Mr. Roboto, bitch.”

“Why are you arguing with the dog about Styx?” you said.

Colonel looked at you.

“Wh– uh, yeah. Um, hey, boy. What were you trying to tell us about Cowboy Hat?”

Colonel looked back at Dean. “The douche wheel who killed my best friend was wearing a cowboy hat.”

“And the pothead, too?”

“Yep. Same guy killed both.”

“Ask about the cats,” Sam said as he rolled up a food wrapper and threw it past Dean into the garbage can. 

“Yeah, uh –” Dean leaned down and grabbed the food wrapper from the bin before putting it down in front of Sam and turning back to Colonel. “And what about the cats?”

“I don't know,” Colonel said as you and Sam shared a confused look over the wrapping paper. 

Sam held it up. “I don't want this,” he said to Dean. 

Dean looked at him but mostly ignored what Sam was saying as Colonel continued. 

“I couldn't see much,” the dog said. “I didn't exactly have the best view in the orphanage. Oh, but I could smell him. Guy reeked of red meat, dishwashing detergent and tiger balm.”

“So, what's he saying?” you said as Sam threw the food wrapper at the bin again. He missed.

“Uh, that the – the guy,” Dean said as he retrieved the wrapper again and threw it on the table, “he smelled like ground chuck and soap suds and old-lady cream.

You held up the food wrapper and leaned forward in Sam’s lap. “Dean, what are you doing?”

Dean scratched behind his ear in frustration. “I don't know. Hey, you wanna have sex? I really just wanna have sex with you right now.”

Colonel turned his head to the side and laughed. 

“Oh, what are you laughing at?” Dean said to the dog before you could even voice your surprise at Dean’s sudden proposition. 

A vehicle pulled up outside, attracting Colonel’s attention. He barked, causing Dean to launch out of his seat and head to the window. He pulled back the curtains to find a mailman climbing out of his truck. 

“Hey! Hey, hey!” The mailman looked towards the window and Dean pointed at him. “Yeah! You! You!” The mailman frowned and continued to walk away. Colonel kept on barking and Dean kept yelling, “Hey! Hey! Hey, hey, you! You! You! You!” Once the mailman was out of sight he let out a dog-like growl. 

“Is it weird that I’m super attracted to him right now,” you murmured to Sam as the two of you sat stone-still watching Dean in shock. 

“A little. Yeah,” Sam said, his mouth hanging open. “Uh, Dean?”

“Hmm?” Dean turned to look at him though his eyes landed on you and stuck. 

“I think the spell worked. Fact, I think it worked a little too well.”

Dean sank back down in his chair. He tried to drag his eyes away from you but they kept wondering back. Specifically, to your legs and the curve of hip that his flannel revealed when it rode up your thighs. 

“What?” Dean said as he imagined you on your knees, his hands wrapping around your hips from behind. 

“I think... you might be a dog.”

Dean frowned and finally looked at his brother in frustration as he scratched behind his ear. “What?”

Sam gestured towards him, his other hand dropping down to curve over your naked hip. 

“You're scratching your head. You're ... barking at the mailman. You're playing fetch. Hell, you’re looking at Y/N like you’re about ready to hump her damn leg.”

Colonel chuckled. “I’d like to get in on that action.”

Dean gave him a dirty look.

****

Sam was leaning against the dresser on the phone to Kevin while Dean sat on the end of his bed glaring at you and Colonel. 

The dog was in your lap again, spread out on his back while you scratched his chest and cooed in his ear.

“Oh man,” Colonel chuckled. “Your girlfriend’s real good with her hands, Dean. She’s a hell of a catch. Startin’ to think she’s gonna be my new best friend.” 

“Okay, first,” Dean growled, “she’s not my girlfriend, she’s my wife. Second, don’t talk about her like that. It’s creepy. Only I can talk about her like that. And – and Sammy.”

You gave Dean a confused smile. “What’d he say about me?”

“Nothing that I’m ever gonna repeat.”

“So, apparently,” Sam began as he hung up the phone, “the Inuit spell has some side effects.”

“Oh, well, that would have been nice to know before I downed it!” Dean snapped. “What kind of side effects?”

Sam shrugged. “When you mind meld with an animal, it's ... possible to start exhibiting some of its behaviour.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Colonel whose tongue lolled out of his mouth when you began scratching his sweet spot.

“Don't look at me, Boss. It ain't my fault,” Colonel said.

“Well, how long am I gonna have the urge to ...” 

“Sniff butts?” Colonel chuckled at the thought before groaning and stretching out even more. 

Dean grimaced. “Okay, baby, you gotta stop. Please. He’s making all these noise and – and he’s just enjoying that way too much.” He leaned down and grabbed your arm to help pull you up and into his lap away from Colonel. 

“Way to kill the party,” Colonel groaned. “I’m telling ya, your girl has got a set of legs I’d hump any day.”

“Oh, woah. Hey. Cut it out man. Have a little respect.”

Colonel sat up on his haunches. “You telling me you don’t have the urge to give her a good one.”

“Of course I do,” Dean snapped. “But that – that’s different. She’s my wife. Besides, you’re a dog. I’m human.”

“You sure about that?”

“Okay,” you said. “Can you stop talking about me with the dog? Please? I have no idea what’s going on but it feels super sexual and creepy.”

Sam cleared his throat, not sure whether he should laugh at the situation or grimace. “Uh, Kev – Kevin doesn't know how long it'll last. It's not like it's an exact science, you know? But hopefully, when the spell wears off, so will the side effects.”

Dean sighed and wrapped his arms more firmly around you. He rested his chin against your head – tendrils of your hair got caught up in his stubble, and suddenly you were all he could smell. You smelled of soap and the Impala and even a bit of gunpowder but mostly you smelt of Sam and Dean.

Dean never thought scent could be something that turned him on so much but knowing you were covered in his scent stroked a part of his ego that he never knew he had. 

The idea that you were somehow marked as his and Sam’s filled him with pride and possessiveness. 

“Uh, Dean?” 

Your voice drew Dean back from the fog his mind had gone into. He realised his face was buried in your neck, sniffing as his hand groped at your breast through his flannel. 

“What are you doing?” you said. 

“You smell good,” he mumbled. A part of him knew that it wasn’t the right moment to be doing this but he just couldn’t help himself. 

You smelt too good. And your ass was sitting right on his crotch. 

You shifted nervously. He groaned and nipped at your neck as you rubbed against him.

A squeak escaped your lips as Dean ran his tongue over the bite mark. The sound stirred up those predatory feelings he’d had earlier. 

With a growl, his hand around your breast tightened and he dropped his other one down to slip beneath the flannel and cup you boldly.

“Woah, you’re really not shy in front of an audience, huh?” Colonel chuckled. 

“Sweet Jesus,” you breathed as you closed your thighs around his hand and dug your nails into his arm. 

You gave Sam a pleading look. He’d been sitting by doing nothing – Dean being overly affectionate with you wasn’t something unusual for him to see – but the moment his brother’s hand went below the waist line was the moment it got odd.

Even though Sam and Dean had talked about it, neither of them had actually yet to touch you like that in front of one another. So, the fact Dean was doing it just then, in the middle of a case with Colonel sitting right there, meant he wasn’t in his right mind.

“Alright, Dean, enough,” Sam said as he stood and approached the two of you. He reached down and gently pulled you from Dean’s grasp. “Now’s not the time for that.” He looked down at you and ran his fingers through your hair. “You okay?” 

Dean hadn’t been forceful but you’d been known to freeze up and do nothing if you were anxious enough. You didn’t have to fight and say no to voice your lack of consent. Just not wanting it was enough. 

You gave him a reassuring smile and nodded. “Of course. Just shocked, is all. I wasn’t expecting it.”

Dean groaned and fell back on the bed. “Do dogs feel this horny all the time?”

You and Sam shared a look. Colonel chuckled. “You mean young males with their balls still intact, sure. Especially if they’ve got a female running around.”

****

You didn’t exactly know how the Inuit spell was affecting Dean but you had a pretty good idea. It seemed that sexual frustration was his biggest problem. So bad, in fact, that he almost put a bullet through a pigeon that was apparently ‘talking smack’. 

It got even worse on the car ride back to the shelter. Dean had pulled over and begged Sam to take the wheel so he could jump in the back with you. Sam wisely said that Dean should be asking for your permission to have sex, not Sam’s. 

Unfortunately for Dean, you couldn’t get past the fact that Colonel was aware of everything going on. So Dean had carried on down the road, silent with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. 

The frustration had come out again when you finally got to the shelter and Sam had suggested leaving Colonel in the car with all the windows down. Dean had snapped at him about dogs not liking that before putting Colonel’s leash back on and taking him out. 

He got his revenge on Sam for cock-blocking him soon enough, though. One of the dogs in the shelter saw everything that happened but was only willing to give up the info if Sam rubbed her belly. 

An annoyed Sam and a whole bunch of hand cramps later, and Dean had found out that the man who stole the cats ate one of them and had a burlap sack with the name of a café on it.

Dean put the dog back in its kennel and turned to leave with you and Sam. Just before he did he paused and looked around. 

“What's the matter?” you asked.

He looked at the latch on one of the kennels for a moment before he moved forward and opened it. Then he opened the pen next to it. And the one after that. And so on until all the pens were open and the dogs were running out towards the front door. 

“I didn't peg you for a softy,” Colonel said from where he sat at your feet.

Dean looked at you and felt his face soften at the proud grin you had. You moved forward and pulled him down into a deep kiss, temporarily forgetting that his self-control with you was next to nothing in that moment. 

Dean growled into the kiss and pulled your body into his. You pushed him back the moment you realised what he was doing but he gave you a pleading look and kneaded your waist with his hands.

“Please,” he mumbled. “I can’t – I can’t do the case like this. You’re all I can think about right now.”

You looked back over your shoulder to Sam. He gave you a reassuring smile. “I’ll wait out in the car with Colonel,” he said. 

Those were the only words Dean needed to hear before he was dragging you through the shelter in search of an office. 

The moment he found one, he pushed you through, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

His mouth was on yours and you were stripping each other’s clothes off. By the time your back hit the desk you hadn’t noticed was there, your flannel and bra were on the ground, along with Dean’s top layers, and both your pants were undone.

You moaned and let your head fall back as Dean kneaded your breasts in his hands and ravaged your neck with his mouth. He began kissing down your sternum, and the lower he got the more he began to growl at your scent. 

He dropped to his knees, yanked your shorts down to your ankles and pressed his nose against your mound, glad you’d decided not to wear underwear. He’d always thought you smelled good, but something about the spell had screwed with his sense of smell. Now you smelled like freaking ambrosia. And he was sure you’d taste as good too. 

He pushed you back and up onto the desk, pulling your shorts off completely and mumbling out a, “Lie back,” before he dove his face in and sucked at your folds. You fell back on the desk with a moan, your hands going straight to your breasts to tug at your nipples. 

Dean growled against your clit, the vibrations shooting through your body, and knocked your hands away to replace them with his own. 

You spread your legs as wide as you could for him, bringing your knees up to increase the pressure. You didn’t have much time, with Sam in the car and the temporary receptionist out at the front counter, but it didn’t seem as though Dean wanted to skimp on the foreplay so you had to do as much as you could to get you up to the edge faster. 

You gripped the edge of the desk above your head and arched your breasts up into his hands. 

“Oh, god. Dean,” you moaned out as he ran his tongue through your folds and over your clit over and over again. 

You tensed your lower abdominal muscles and brought your knees up high enough that you could brace your heels just on the edge of the desk and grind yourself up against his face.

That seemed to egg him on more. His hands on your breasts became rougher and his growling became hoarser and more frequent. His mouth was more urgent on your clit as he sucked it past his lips and began rubbing his tongue along the underside of it. 

Your legs began shaking and your voice came out higher and breathier as you reached down and tightened your fingers in his hair. 

Your thrusts became faster but more jagged. The closer you got the more you lost your rhythm. 

“Please, Dean,” you moaned. “Fuck, I’m so close. Just a little more. Yes. Yes. Yes, just like that. Oh, god, yes!”

Your back arched off the desk as the orgasm hit you. Your heels slipped off but thankfully Dean didn’t lose his grip on you. 

He didn’t wait for you to ride the orgasm out. The moment you fell over the edge, he pulled you off the desk, turned you around and forced you face down onto it as he buried himself inside you with a shout and a growl. 

You were still cumming around him when he began a punishing pace. The front of your thighs and hips banged harshly against the wood of the desk as he fucked you into it. He fell forward with his hands bracing against the desk on either side of your shoulders.

You wrapped your hands around his wrists just for the sake of holding on to something. 

“God dammit. How do you feel this fucking good all the time?” he growled. 

The sound of his growling and his hips slapping against yours had you soaking wet around his cock. And the moment you’d finally come down from your first orgasm, another one was already escalating. You cried out as he leaned down to leave rough bite marks along your shoulders and neck. 

He lowered himself to his forearms so he was pressed completely against your back and his mouth was at your ear. 

His growl in your ear mixed with his fast, bruising pace was enough to send you over the edge a second time. 

“Ah, fuck,” he growled. “That’s it, baby. Cum all over my fucking cock. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You feel so god damn amazing. Talk to me, baby. Tell me how I make you feel.”

You let out a sob of pleasure and said, “So good, Dean. You feel so good inside me. I love how full you make me feel.”

“Yeah? I make you feel good?”

“Yes! Dean, oh, god, you always make me feel so good. I love you so much,” you sobbed out. 

Jus hearing you say that. Hearing you validate him and tell him that you loved him just as much as he loved you was enough to tip him over the edge. 

Tears pricked his eyes at the feelings you’d welled up in his chest with your words. 

You cried out as he sank his teeth into your shoulder and let himself go inside of you. 

****

Sam moved into the driver’s side of the Impala when he saw Dean carrying you out of the shelter. Your arms were thrown around his neck and his arms cradled your ass as your legs hung, too weak to wrap around his waist. 

To an outsider, you probably looked like a sleeping child, the immense size difference between you and Dean was enough to make it seem like that. 

But Sam knew the truth. You’d crashed quickly this time, probably because Sam had been so rough with you the morning before, not to mention, with the few times that Ezekiel had used his powers you seemed to be getting more and more tired lately. 

Sam leaned over and pushed open the passenger side door for Dean before helping him adjust your legs so he could sit in the seat with you straddling him. 

“Wow, way to go, Boss,” Colonel said. “Who knew you had it in you to knock the poor girl out.”

Dean ignored him as he smoothed a hand over your hair. 

“Better now?” Sam said with a knowing smile. 

Dean gave him a hard look. 

Sam chuckled and turned to start the car but paused when he caught a glimpse of purple on your shoulder. He frowned and tugged down the collar of your flannel. It hadn’t been buttoned properly so it fell off your shoulder easily enough. 

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” Sam snapped when he saw the dozens of bruised bite marks across your back. “What the hell’d you do to her? You just got pissed at me yesterday for wearing her out.”

“’S’kay, Sammy,” you mumbled, your eyes still closed and your body lax. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Thought you were asleep,” Sam said, still giving his brother a hard look. “How you feeling?”

“Tired. Hungry.” You heaved out a sigh that said you were close to falling asleep. “Tired.”

Sam opened his mouth to ask if the bruises hurt but closed it again when you started snoring softly against Dean’s shoulder.

****

Sam had taken you all back to the motel so you could sleep it off. Night had fallen by the time you’d woken back up and eaten some food. Sam wanted you to shower too because he knew you’d feel sore soon but you declined, saying that you’d already wasted enough time and you had to get to the restaurant to try and find the killer.

The restaurant was locked down when you, Sam and Dean had gotten there – Colonel had been left back at the motel. 

“Honestly, who can afford to be closed on Monday these days?” Dean said as he picked the lock and opened the door for you and Sam. 

“A homicidal maniac?” Sam said as he led the two of you up a corridor. 

He opened a door near the end of it that led into a dark room. Rather than risk turning on the lights, you all pulled out your flashlights and began searching the room. It appeared to be a private kitchen/office of some sorts. 

“Check this out,” Sam said as he shone a light on a photo of a man in a cowboy hat. “Chef Leo. Think he’s our guy?”

“It’s Okie town. Lots of dudes wear cowboy hats,” Dean said as he moved further into the room.

You opened the top drawer of the desk that the photo sat on and shone your light in. “Whoa. Oxycodone, tramadol, methadone.”

“Hmm. Guess he likes to cook comfortably numb,” Dean said as he shone his light over a shelf of ingredients. 

He turned suddenly with a frown on his face as he looked at you and Sam. “Did you hear that? Sounded like little kids.”

You shook your head and Dean suddenly turned to a cage covered with a white sheet. He lifted the cover off and shone his light on four mice. 

“Eat you?” he said. He listened for a moment, as though to someone talking to him before he turned around and opened the fridge. 

Ignoring Dean, Sam bent down and opened the second drawer. He flicked through some files before pulling out a book and placing it on the desk. You sank down onto the chair, switched off the flashlight and turned on the desk lamp. 

“Hey. Owl brains. Cheetah liver. Grizzly heart,” Dean said. As you flipped through the book, Sam glanced over to find Dean pulling containers of animal organs out of the fridge. 

“We found a spell book,” you said. “Shamanism.”

“Well, what's a chef doing dabbling with witchcraft?”

“It says here whatever animal organ you ingest with the right mix of hoodoo and spices, you temporarily gain the power of that animal. So, okay, if you're munching on owl brains ...”

“Your head spins around like ‘The Exorcist’?” Dean said with a little more excitement than you were hoping for.

“Close. Bolsters your IQ. Okay, eat a cheetah liver for speed, bear heart for strength.”

“Okay, so if he's chowing down on this stuff, then it would make sense why he constricted the taxidermist and clawed the guy at the shelter,” Sam said. 

Dean turned back to the mice. “Well, no offense, but why would he want to eat you guys?”

Whatever answer he got made Dean grimace. 

“Look at this,” Sam said as he picked up some handwritten notes that fell from the book. He put his flashlight down and began reading through them as Dean walked back over to the two of you. “Lion liver plus eagle heart. Rattlesnake fangs plus anaconda bladder. Baboon brains plus black widow abdomen. He's mixing ingredients.”

“What the hell for?” Dean said. 

There was a crash in another room of the restaurant. You turned the desk lamp off and drew your gun to follow Sam and Dean out into the corridor. 

Turned out that the noise had come from a waiter and a chef cooking in the main kitchen. After some brilliant lying through your teeth about being health inspectors, you managed to get rid of them. Thankfully, the chef had let slip that Chef Leo would be arriving any minute.

“Alright,” Dean said when the chef and waiter were gone. “Sam and I'll take the front. You take the back in case he slips ‘round.”

“Do we even know how to kill this guy?” Sam said.

Dean lifted his gun. “Well, empty one of these in his head. See what that does.”

Sam and Dean slipped through the doors into the front. A minute passed as you searched through the main kitchen, then you heard a noise and headed back down the corridor to investigate. 

There was a creak behind you, so you spun with your gun raised to find Leo already swinging his arm towards you. You caught a glimpse of long talons on the ends of his fingers before they sliced across your throat. 

Your gun went flying to the ground as you reeled backward. Blood poured through your fingers as you desperately tried to stop the bleeding. You knew he’d cut an artery just by the amount of blood that flowed out of the wound. 

“Chameleons aren't that bad. Kind of taste like chicken,” Leo said as he walked towards you. 

You turned and stumbled a few more steps down the corridor but you were losing too much blood. You stumbled and braced yourself against the wall. Everything went dark for a moment and you were sure you had blacked out from the blood loss – maybe even died – but when you came to you were standing and no more blood was spilling from the wound. 

You frowned as you felt along your neck. There was no wound to feel at all.

You turned back to Leo who looked as confused as you felt.

“How the hell did you do that?” he said.

“D-do what?” 

“Don't play coy. I want to know what you are.” He scowled. “Oh, screw the sharktopus.”

His fist hit your jaw and this time you really did black out. 

****

When Leo had yet to come through the front and neither of them had heard anything from you, Dean decided to go check up on you, leaving Sam to hold down the fort in front just in case.

Dean happened upon Leo sharpening his knife in the kitchen. He tried stealth but Leo sniffed him out, apparently he smelled like a dog. 

Leo then matrixed the shot Dean had fired at him before throwing a cleaver at Dean. It just missed his head and buried into the pillar behind him. Distracted by the blade, Dean was overpowered by Leo and forced to the ground where his hands were tied behind his back and the pillar. 

It was in that position that Dean finally saw you laying on the floor a short distance away. You weren’t moving and your neck was covered in blood.

“What did you do to my wife?” Dean growled as his heart leapt into his throat. 

Leo, still kneeling beside Dean, looked between the two of you in shock. “Your wife? Blimey, where the hell did you two find each other?” Dean gave him a hard look. “She's fine. She's just taking a little cat nap before dinner. I've never had human heart before. Heard it's a bit chewy. Good job I'm not a fussy eater.”

He rose back to his feet and returned to sharpening his knife. 

That’s when Dean smelt it. He frowned. “You're sick.”

Leo chuckled. “Been told that once or twice.”

“No, no. Not in the head. I, uh – well, you are that, too, but I mean sick like cancer.”

Leo’s shoulder’s tensed and he put the knife and sharpening implement back on the counter. “Well, I guess dogs really can sniff it out,” he turned to look at Dean. “Stage four carcinoma.”

“Huh. So that's why you're doing this,” Dean said as he watched Leo go to a shelf of ingredients and rifle through them. “What happened? Draw the short straw, decided to break bad?”

Leo pulled a container of something from the shelf and set it down on the counter. “See, when I was diagnosed, I was way past standard treatment. No one could save me. But then with the help of a Pawnee shaman and a zoo membership, I found a cure, albeit a temporary one. Cancer always came back.”

“You start experimenting with different organs, huh? Traded in the single serving for a combo platter.”

Leo smiled. “Well, what can I say? Combination therapy works. I felt stronger, and the effects lasted longer.”

“And if you smoke a few innocent people in the process, well, hell, at least you felt better.”

Leo sighed and moved forward to crouch in front of Dean again. “Well, I didn't mean to kill anyone – at first. But if people got in my way, they became collateral damage. Guess you eat enough predators, you start to become one. You are what you eat, right?” 

Leo laughed and Dean felt along the cord that tied his hands together to see how much he’d managed to saw away in the time he’d had Leo talking. 

“Do you really think the power you hold over other people's lives can make up for what you lack in your own?” Dean growled.

Leo’s lip lifted in a sneer as he rose back to his feet. “So, dog boy, what do I need to eat to take you down, huh?”

He turned suddenly and went to an ice chest he had tucked under the counter. 

“You don't want to do this,” Dean said.

“Oh, but I do want to do this. See, I'm gonna kill you, work up a nice appetite, and then I'm gonna eat your wife.” Dean yanked against his restraints with a growl and Leo laughed. “I mean, I don't know what the hell she is, but with healing powers like that, who cares? She could cure me.”

Leo pulled a container from the ice chest and Dean became more vigorous as he rubbed the cord against the back corner of the pillar. It began to fray.

Leo stood and showed Dean his container with a smile. A wolf’s heart was inside.

“Dog on sort-of-dog,” Leo said. 

He took out the wolf’s heart, placing the container on the counter, and held it in both hands as he began chanting over it. 

His back was to Dean so he didn’t try to hide that he was trying to break the cord. 

It snapped just as Leo finished chanting and bit into the heart. Dean tried killing him with the cleaver that Leo had thrown earlier but when that didn’t work, he let Leo chase him until he had him trapped out the back with the pack of dogs that he’d let out of the pound earlier. 

Dean didn’t waste time making sure Leo was dead – his screams attested to that – your bloodied body was at the forefront of his mind so he ran straight back to the kitchen, only to find Sam on the ground with you cradled in his arms. 

“Dean,” Sam said when he saw his brother. “I came out when I didn’t hear anything. What the hell happened to her?”

The panic and fear in Sam’s eyes were enough to force Dean to remain calm as he knelt on the other side of you and pulled you from his brother’s arms. 

“Leo got her. He’s dead,” Dean said as he cupped your face.

“Leo got her? But – but – I … there’s blood everywhere, Dean. But I can’t find a wound.”

“Yeah. I think Zeke healed her.” He slapped lightly at your cheek and called your name – even shook you a little – but still you didn’t wake up. Dean’s calm cracked and panic started slipping back in. “Hey. For the love of God, baby. Hey, Y/N. Zeke. Whoever the hell you are. Hey. Come on. Don't make me lick your damn face. Hey.”

Dean put a hand on your chest and shook you one last time. 

Your brow furrowed and you made a sound of confusion as you opened your eyes and sucked in a breath.

Sam fell back against one of the counters and Dean bowed his head. Neither of them had felt that much relief since you’d first woken up from the hospital. 

“Come on,” Dean said gently as he helped you get up.

****

You were waiting outside the vegan bakery when Dean came back out without Colonel. You were relieved and a little upset that Olivia and Dylan had decided to take the dog. 

“How did it go?” Sam said as he pushed off the Impala at the sight of Dean.

Dean walked around to the driver’s side as he said, “Well, bad news is I'm gonna miss the fleabag. Good news is it looks like the spell is finally wearing off.”

Dean looked at you when you didn’t say anything. “You okay, baby? The Stetson man got you pretty good.”

You drew in a deep breath and nodded as the brothers looked at you. “Yeah, I'm fine. I-I just, uh ... I can't stop thinking about what he said.”

Sam gave Dean a hard look, earning an eye roll in return.

“Come on, baby,” Dean said. “Guy was out of his freaking gourd.”

“Yeah, but, I mean, why – why would he ask that? Why – why did he want to know what I was?”

Dean shrugged, shook his head and gave you a small, brief smile over the top of the car. “Who the hell knows? He was all jacked up on juice, you know? He was possessed by – by something he couldn't control. It was ...” 

He stopped as you looked at him and finally the guilt caught up to him. Finally, after all this time coming up with excuses and lying to your face, one look into your beautiful, confused eyes and the guilt suddenly overflowed. He glanced at Sam, realised this was how his little brother had been feeling all along. 

“It was a – a matter of time before it completely took over,” Dean finished softly when you gave him a questioning glance. “You can't reason with crazy, right?”

Your shoulders slumped and tears pricked at the back of Dean’s eyes. He could see the confusion and sadness and self-doubt eating away at you. All the odd little things that you couldn’t explain had started piling up and Dean could see that you felt like you were going crazy. 

That were losing your mind all over again like you had way back when you were just a kid getting shoved into a cold institute. 

“I don't know,” you said with a shrug as you kicked at the ground. 

“Well, I do,” Dean said. “Trust me, Y/N. You got nothing to worry about.”

That was the truth at least. But not even that could assuage Dean’s guilt. As long as you looked like a lost child every time something like this happened, he would never stop feeling guilty. 

Sam threaded his fingers through your hair and said, “Why don’t you sit in the front on the way back?” You gave him a questioning look. “I want to catch some shut eye,” Sam lied. 

Another lie. But he couldn’t very well tell you he wanted you to sit in the front because he felt guilty about the lies he’d already told you. 

You nodded and tugged at the bottom of your flannel as you climbed into the front seat. You winced as Dean’s rigorousness from earlier in the day began to catch up with you. 

Dean winced along with you. The fact he was lying to you while you were in pain from how hard he’d fucked you earlier seemed worse to him. Dirty almost. 

Sam looked down to make sure your window was up before he looked at his brother. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this to her, Dean.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped as he returned his brother’s sad look. “Yeah. Me neither.”

He climbed into the car and looked at you. He was thankful you were looking out the windshield in confusion because Dean was sure the guilt was written all over his face. 

He wanted to hug you to him. Just pull you across the seat and hold you until you felt better. But he didn’t have the right. 

So he did nothing.


	36. The Nightmares Can't Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a covert phone call from Cas, and a small fight with you, Dean rushes off to Idaho to chase a case, leaving you, Sam and Kevin behind to translate an extinct language and find a way to reverse Metatron's spell. Whilst in Idaho, Dean tracks down Cas and convinces him to work the case so he can warn the angel to bottle up his feelings for you and take him to his first date.

Sam sighed as he looked down at the pages Kevin had given him. There were pictures of a sheaf of drawings in red and black, with words and cryptic symbols and numbers. 

“That's your ‘big … news’,” Sam said as Dean leaned against the end of the library table and looked through similar pages, “is that you – that you translated the tablet into ... doodles?”

“It's cuneiform,” Kevin explained from where he sat at the table. Sam and Dean looked at him. “I-I hit a wall translating the tablet into English. But I found an ancient codex, uh, linking the Angel script to proto-Elamite cuneiform, and I was able to translate the tablet and the footnotes into Elamite, which … is …”

“Doodles,” Dean said.

“It's extinct,” Kevin finished with a sigh. 

Before either of the brothers could feel down on their luck, you came padding into the library wearing one of Sam’s long-sleeved shirts. A bright smile adorned your face when you saw them. 

Kevin looked over his shoulder to see what had made the brothers perk up. He rolled his eyes and turned back to his notes when he saw it was you. 

He liked you – in fact, you were his favourite of the three Winchesters – no, his problem wasn’t with you at all. His problem was with the three of you being together. Separately, or even in pairs, he could handle, but when the three of you got together it was an overload of affection, secret whispers, inside jokes and knowing looks.

To put it bluntly, none of you hid how crazy in love with each other you were – least of all the brothers – and Kevin hated it. Probably because he was jealous.

The three of you had something that he’d always wanted. A family. A loyal, tight-knit, die-for-each-other family. And no matter how much the three of you told Kevin he was part of your family, he knew that no one would ever wriggle their way into your trio. 

Not even Cas was a part of the ‘Winchester clan’. He was only in the outer circle of ‘family’. Stuck there with Kevin. 

Kevin had no doubt that the three of you would die for him but he knew that he didn’t sit higher in the hierarchy than any of you. Which meant, as much as you’d like to think you would die for him, Kevin knew it would never actually happen. 

Sam and Dean would never let you sacrifice yourself for Kevin. Just like you and Sam would never let Dean sacrifice himself. And you and Dean would never let Sam sacrifice himself.

And around it went in a never ending circle of sacrificial promises that were impossible for any of you to keep. Because no matter what the three of you said, you would sacrifice the entire world to save each other. Even if that meant your circle of ‘family’ went down with it. 

So, yes, Kevin liked the Winchester’s and he knew the Winchester’s liked him but he also knew that unless there was no chance of a Winchester dying, he would always be the third priority to you three. 

You reached Dean first as you approached the table and Kevin watched as Dean’s arms easily slid around you in that familiar manner that said his arms were made to be around you. He leant down to meet your lips in a modest kiss. 

Dean was always modest with his affections in front of anyone who wasn’t you or Sam. Kevin knew when Dean got jealous and possessive over you because he’d give you lingering kisses and touches in front of strangers. 

When he was content and felt safe, he was modest. But no matter how modest he was in his touches, there was no way for Dean to hide the complete, unfiltered adoration he had in his eyes when he looked at you. 

Dean normally had a hard look and a sarcastic smile to throw at everyone but when he looked at you, it was like watching a mask melt and be replaced by everything he felt on the inside. 

People who had never seen the two of you before would take one look at his face when he looked at you, and there would never be a doubt in their mind that Dean Winchester was in love with you. 

His loyalty and devotion to you may as well have been a beacon above his head. 

You and Dean shared, what Kevin was sure was, an inside joke and a quiet laugh before you moved to Sam. 

Sam pulled you into him with a smile, cupped your face in his hands and gave you a kiss that would make porn stars blush.

In contrast to the way Dean behaved, Sam was by no means modest in his affections with you. He touched you however, whenever and in front of whoever he liked. Just as he kissed you however, whenever and in front of whoever he liked. 

Kevin looked away and shifted in his seat when Sam’s lip snarled up and his tongue pushed into your mouth. 

It was only recently that he figured out why Sam was so open with public displays. He used to think it was because of jealousy – that Sam somehow felt threatened by everyone who wasn’t Dean – but time showed that Sam was too secure in his relationship with you to be that jealous. Then Kevin thought it was a sex thing – maybe good ol’ Sam was a voyeur. But the longer Kevin stayed in the bunker and studied the two of you, the more he realised that wasn’t the case. 

Sam just liked being with you. So much, in fact, that he didn’t care what other people saw or thought. He gave into his urges. If he wanted to touch you, he touched you. If he wanted to kiss you, he kissed you. 

Unlike Dean, who wanted to hide you from the world and keep what he shared with you just between he and you, Sam wanted everyone to see what he had with you.

He wanted everyone to know who he was in love with. 

He wanted everyone to know you were his and he was yours. 

Kevin wondered, sometimes more than once a day, how the three of you worked. 

In theory, Sam and Dean should never be able to be in a polyamorous relationship with anyone, let alone each other.

They were too alpha-male, too possessive and protective. Not to mention their behaviours and views concerning their relationship with you were the complete opposite. 

It shouldn’t work.

It couldn’t. 

They should have been at each other’s throats within the first month, and you should have been driven away. 

But it always came back to you, didn’t it?

You. You were the reason for it all. The glue that held it all together. 

Kevin had been a fool not to realise it at first. He’d been so focused on the two loudest personalities in the trio that he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to what you contributed. 

You were so much like the brothers – that was undeniable – but it wasn’t just that. The more Kevin observed you, the more he realised that in reality, you were the best of both of them. 

You had an anger that rivalled Dean’s in every way and a kindness that put Sam’s to shame. 

You showed Dean the patience he was never given, and Sam the faith he had never had in himself.

You were the perfect balance between them. The perfect mediator. 

You were the reason the relationship worked. You made them want to put in that effort. The Winchester’s love for you was enough to make them put aside differences that they never would have for any other woman. 

“Kevin?” Sam said.

Kevin’s head snapped up at the sound of his name. “What?”

Sam frowned and gave him a slight smile as he wrapped an arm around the front of your chest.

Kevin’s eyes dropped down to meet your inquisitive look, and he had a funny thought of how you might react if you knew his thoughts on your relationship with the brothers. 

You’d probably roll your eyes, smile and say you’d known all along but you’d been keeping it a secret so the boys still thought they had the upper hand.

You were funny like that.

“I asked if you could read it,” Sam said.

Kevin looked back up at him with a frown. “Read what?”

Sam scoffed and picked up the pages he’d discarded on the table earlier when you’d entered. “The doodles, Kevin. Can you read them?”

“Oh,” Kevin said as he looked back down at his notes. “Uh, no. No one can. Scholars have tried for centuries.”

Dean sighed and slapped his pages down on the table. “So it's a dead end?”

“N-not quite,” Kevin said as he watched Dean flop down into the chair across from him and pull you into his lap. “Now, most proto-Elamite is abstract, but I was able to decipher one phrase from Metatron's footnotes. ‘Falling angels’.”

“Okay, so, the footnotes refer to Metatron's spell?” you said as Dean’s fingers absentmindedly stroked up and down your thigh. 

Kevin shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Okay,” Sam said as he headed over to the bookshelf. “Well, maybe if we can decipher the footnotes, then we can reverse the spell and ...”

Sam pulled four of a set of dozen books from the shelf.

“Punt those winged dicks back to heaven,” Dean finished with a triumphant smile as he slapped your thigh. “Where do we start?”

You and Sam shared a knowing smile as he tossed two books down on the table in front of you and Dean, and one down in front of Kevin. “Research. We comb through the library, see if we can find anything else on Elamite.”

Dean sighed and picked up one of the books in front of him to read the title. “Zimmerman's Encyclopedia of Extinct Languages … Volume One: Adai to Atakapa. How many volumes are there?”

“Twenty-four,” Kevin said as he opened up his own book.

Dean’s mouth opened and shut soundlessly. 

“Don’t worry,” you said with a smile as you ran your fingers through his hair, “we've found them all.”

“Awesome.”

Dean gave his brother a pleading look but Sam just chuffed and opened up his own book as he sat down. 

Before Dean even got a chance to open his, his phone rang. 

“There is a God,” he muttered as he pulled it from his pocket and answered it. 

You watched Dean with concern as his frown deepened the longer he listened to whoever was on the other end. 

He stood suddenly, pushing you to your feet so he could leave the room to have a private conversation. 

You stared at him with an annoyed and sad look.

That was the downside Kevin had found to the relationship between you three. You were all so loyal and devoted to each other that secrets were almost a taboo between you. 

When someone had a secret that came out, it usually ended in a big fight that had you leaving for a while to get away from the confrontation. Which usually left Sam and Dean moping around the place acting more irritated than usual.

The real problem? There was never a moment where a Winchester wasn’t keeping a secret from another Winchester. 

“Hey,” Sam said softly after watching you stare after Dean for a moment. 

You looked at him and he patted his knee. He opened his arms when you went to him without question and let you slump down onto his lap. Sam combed his fingers through your hair rhythmically as he read through the book.

And that was how comfort and peace were brought about amongst you three. Silent and affectionate. 

The peace didn’t last long. 

Dean came back into the room ten minutes later with a packed duffle bag and said Cas had called him about a case. He was going to Idaho. 

“So, he said nothing about where he is or – or what he's been doing?” you said as you all but ran after Dean when he headed towards the entrance stairwell. 

Sam and Kevin followed after you. 

“This is Cas,” Dean said. “In case you forgot, he's not exactly Chatty Cathy.”

You gave him an incredulous look as he stepped up onto the stairs and turned to look down at you. “And you're not even gonna see him when you're in Idaho?”

“Well, like I said, as long as he's catnip for angels, he's keeping his distance.”

“So then, what's the point, Dean?” Sam said. “I mean, it's barely even a case.”

Dean rolled his eyes and began up the stairs again as he said, “That's why I'm just gonna go have a little look-see, and … we're not gonna waste a whole lot of manpower on a big pile of nada.”

“In other words, a perfect excuse to bail out on research,” Kevin said.

“You got me.”

“Take me with you, at least,” you said as Dean looked down over the balcony at the three of you. “I want to see Cassie, Dean.”

“No,” Dean growled. “I don’t know where he is, Y/N. Which means I’m not going to see him. It would be a waste of time to drag you along.”

He turned and left without another word and you let out a growl of frustration.

“He’s gonna be in so much trouble when he gets back,” you muttered as you turned your back on Sam and Kevin and stormed out of the room. 

****

When Dean started working the case Cas had turned him onto, he was glad he’d put his foot down and not let you come. Some of the guilt even began to thaw away – because he’d lied when he told you he wasn’t going to see Cas.

The crime scenes were covered in what appeared to be pink spray paint but were really the victims. The Sheriff had said it was like they’d all been run through the world’s finest wood chipper. Dean couldn’t argue with that.

Gruesome scenes weren’t new to you, though. No, what Dean had been glad to keep you away from was the fact that all the victims had been suicidal. 

Your mental health was at the best it had been in years. You still had your days – sometimes entire weeks here and there – where you came crashing down. But mostly the medication and late-night, pillow talk therapy sessions had been helping. 

You weren’t cured – not by a long shot – but you were doing the best that Dean had ever seen you. Especially since Ezekiel had possessed your body. He was sure now that the angel was having some effect on your mental state. 

Despite all that, you still had triggers. Just like anyone recovering from poor mental health. Sam and Dean were on top of the triggers like nobody’s business. You hadn’t had a trigger-induced episode since Dean got too forceful during one of his purgatory flashbacks in a police station.

It was a moment that still filled Dean with shame. It was also a moment that made him pedantic about keeping you away from anything that could send you spiralling back down. 

He was sure that working a case where the victims were suicidal was enough to dredge up memories you’d sooner forget. 

Hell, the case was enough to screw with his emotions.

There was a time where he hadn’t thought much about suicide. He had thought it sucked that people took their own lives – even thought it a little cowardly. Then he found you – the least cowardly person he knew – lying half-dead on a bathroom floor after you swallowed a bottle of pills. 

Needless to say, it changed his perspective.

Now, he only had to hear the word ‘suicide’ and he was back in that motel bathroom. Back on that floor with his fingers down your throat and a sob on his lips. 

He still had nightmares about that moment sometimes. Usually, when you and he were fighting over something stupid and you were both too stubborn to apologise before bed, he’d dream of that day and he’d wake up in tears. Then he’d pull you out of Sam’s bed at an ungodly hour and apologise profusely for fighting with you over coffee beans or whatever the hell it had been that day.

Even just thinking about it had him feeling flustered and anxious to see you. He went out to buy a coffee to try and calm himself down but it got so bad that he seriously contemplated just heading back to the bunker and calling in another hunter. 

Even went as far as to pull over on the side of the road out of town to convince himself going back home was what was best. 

He tried calling you, knowing you’d talk him into doing the case and make him feel better about your safety, but he’d left you behind after a fight so you were too angry to answer his calls. 

Just as he was about to get back into the Impala and leave town he got a call from Sam. 

“Hey. You got something?” Dean answered. 

“Uh, well, we're almost through the texts over here. We got nothing,” Sam said.

“Have you tried Professor Morrison? You know Y/N just loves talking to him.”

Sam snorted. Professor Morrison was the last person you ever wanted to speak to about anything. “Yeah, he's unreachable. He took a sabbatical to live amongst the Trobrianders of Papua New Guinea. Needless to say, we're pretty burnt.”

Dean nodded and dragged his bottom lip through his teeth as he leaned back against the passenger side door of the car. 

“How’s, uh, how’s she doing anyway?” he said.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who he was talking about.

“Not picking up your calls, huh?” Sam said. 

Dean could hear the smile in his voice. A brief smile curled his lips at hearing Sam talk so casually about your silent treatment. It made him feel better, somehow. Like he wasn’t the only one you ignored when you got angry. Like it was just one of your quirks rather than a prelude to another … attempt. 

He couldn’t even think the word in context with you. 

“Stubborn as a mule. Like always,” Dean said. 

He tried to keep his voice light but Sam could tell something was wrong. Mostly because he’d talked about your stubbornness with affection rather than annoyance coated worry.

“What’s going on, Dean? Bad case?”

Dean rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Something like that. The, uh … the victims were all … they wanted to eat bullets, Sam.”

There was a long pause on Sam’s end, followed by a sigh. “Crap. I’m sorry, man. Look, maybe I should be out there. You come home and be with Y/N.”

“No, man. No, I … I should see how Cas is. And – and she still needs time to cool off.”

“Well, uh, if it makes you feel any better, Y/N is the one who not-so-subtly suggested I call you. So she’s not as angry as you think. More upset than anything. She misses Cas. Just wanted to see him is all.”

Dean nodded. “I know she does. I can’t risk him letting something slip, though. If she finds out that we’re the ones who told him to leave …”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Look, can you try and get her to call me? If not, just … just tell her I’m sorry, okay? And that I miss her.”

“Of course,” Sam said. “Yeah. You know I will.”

“Great. And - and about the translations? Maybe you should try talking to Crowley.”

“It's worth a shot, I guess.”

“Just be careful, all right?” Dean said. “Don't fall for any of his "quid pro quo" crap. And don’t let Y/N agree to any deals. She puts way more trust in him than he deserves.”

“Noted.” 

****

Dean found Cas working at a Gas ‘N Sip in town as a ‘sales associate’ going by the name of Steve. Something Cas seemed real proud of. Dean couldn’t help but feel responsible for how pathetic he looked in his blue vest, after all, he and Sam were the ones that kicked him to the curb in the first place.

“This is not you, man. You are above this. Come on,” Dean said as Cas set down a box of small jars.

Cas gave him a stubborn look that Dean knew he’d picked up from you.

“No, Dean,” Cas said. “I'm not. I failed at being an angel. Everything I ever attempted came out wrong. But here … at least I have a shot at getting things right. I guess you can't see it, but … there's a real dignity in what I do – human dignity.”

Dean rolled his eyes just as a blonde woman poked her head in from the back room. “Hate to interrupt you guys, but, Steve? Customer had an accident in the men's room.”

“I'm on it,” Cas said with more determination that Dean cared to admit. 

“Oh, and tonight – 7:00 at my place work for you?”

Cas nodded. “Great.”

“You're the best!”

Dean grinned and jerked his thumb at the door the woman had ducked back through. “That's what this is about!”

“What?”

“The girl.”

Cas frowned. “No, Dean. It's not. Nora – she's a very nice woman, I'm pretty sure she's not a reaper intent on killing me … and she's asked me out. I’m hoping she can distract me.”

Dean chuckled. “From what? Life? Yeah, women will do that.”

“No. From Y/N.”

The smile fell from Dean’s face as he straightened his spine and looked down at Cas. He’d had suspicions about the angel but he never thought he’d be so bold as to outright imply his feelings for you. 

Dean’s jaw ticked as he ground his teeth together and his hand itched to clench into a fist. A phone call from the local police about another murder was the bell that saved Cas.

“There was another kill, over at the high school,” Dean said. “You’re comin'.”

Cas frowned. “I wouldn't be much use. I don't have my powers.”

“Don’t care,” Dean growled as he headed towards the exit. “I’ve got some stuff to say to you. And you sure as hell better listen if you ever want to step foot back in the bunker.”

****

You sat cross-legged atop the dungeon table in front of Crowley as he stared down at a page of the ‘doodles’ as Sam had taken to calling them. 

“I've been politely asking for reading material for weeks, and this is what you bring me?” He dropped the paper into your lap. “Pass.”

You sighed as you picked the page up and shook it at him. “Come on, Crowley. Can you read Elamite or not?”

“Why don’t you ever call me ‘dad’?”

You rolled your eyes towards Sam’s stony face. He shook his head. “You and I both know that would be creepy,” you said to Crowley. “Don’t try and change the topic.”

Crowley sighed as he folded his arms. “It's by no means my favourite of the ancient tongues, but yes.”

“Will you help us read it?”

“Why on earth would I?”

You gave him a hopeful smile. “Because you’re my dad?”

He gave you a look that said that was the stupidest excuse you’d ever given him. And it had been. No matter Crowley’s attachments to you, he would never actually do you any favours without getting something in return. Not while you were running with the Winchester’s anyway. 

Your shoulder’s slumped. “Fine. I didn’t want to bring it up but … you leave me no choice. I was there that night. I saw what humanity did to you.” He scoffed. “Like it or not, there's still a little part of you that's not a douche.”

“Sorry, Kitten. To the last drop.”

“Alright,” Sam said as he stepped forward, wrapped an arm around your waist and hoisted you off the table to your feet. “You had your turn. Now it’s mine.” You took a step back and let him brace his hands against the table. “Crowley, the only reason you're alive is because my brother thought you would be useful. So far you've done Jack.”

Crowley smiled. “You and I both know that’s not the only reason I’m alive, Moose.” He glanced at you, the implication all too clear.

Sam sighed and shook his head as he straightened. “Back to plan B, I guess.”

You both turned to leave the room but, just as Sam had predicted, Crowley’s curiosity got the best of him.

“Which is?”

“Give you up to Abaddon,” Sam said without turning back.

“You think you can threaten me with that hack?!” Crowley snapped. You and Sam turned to face him. “She's all fury, no finesse.”

“I'm not so sure,” Sam said. “Our last encounter with Abaddon, she was, uh – she was pretty terrifying.” He chuckled. “Scarier than you've been in years.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “Bring that to me.”

You and Sam shared a look. To be honest, you didn’t think his plan would pay off. Guess you owed him ten bucks.

The two of you approached the table once more and you handed the page back to Crowley as Sam braced his hands against the table again.

He looked down at it but, much to your amusement, it was all a ruse. The moment he had the page, Crowley screwed it up into a ball and threw it at Sam’s face in a temper tantrum. 

You coughed to cover your laugh as you watched Sam’s jaw tick and Crowley narrow his eyes. 

“Guess you owe me ten bucks,” you said as you leaned into Sam’s shoulder.

He looked at you with narrowed eyes. You grinned and planted a kiss on his pursed lips before leaving the room. 

****

Dean had been too angry to talk to Cas about you on the way to the crime scene. Every time he opened his mouth to tell the angel to back off and repress any feelings he may have for you, anger boiled in his stomach. 

The last thing he wanted to do was blow up and ostracise him even more. Not only would you kill Dean if you ever found out but, despite Cas stepping over the line with you, he was still Dean’s best friend. 

By the time the two of them had reached the crime scene, he’d calmed down. But by then he was distracted by a dead, teenage girl that had just been dumped by her boyfriend. 

Not to mention, as soon as Cas saw the pink crime scene he knew exactly what was going on. 

The killer was a special class of angel called Rit Zien. They worked mostly as medics on battlefields, even went as far as to ‘put down’ angels who were past saving.

The granulated bodies were their special ability. 

Pain was like a beacon to Rit Zien. They homed in on it. That didn’t stop when they fell from heaven. Cas’s theory was that this angel was just continuing his heavenly duties on earth by terminating humans that were suffering. 

The problem was, he couldn’t differentiate different levels of pain in humans. It was too different to angels. So, to him, pain was pain.

Which meant everyone was fair game. 

****

After an hour of Sam and Kevin growing more and more frustrated over the doodles, you took it upon yourself to try Crowley again. 

“Back again?” Crowley said with a smile when you entered the dungeon.

You shrugged. “Sam doesn’t think it’s worth it. But, to be honest, we don’t have any other options. And you were right earlier. He and Dean aren’t just going to kill you or hand you over to Abaddon. Not while I’m around. But you’re pushing your luck, Crowley. I can only hold them back so long. You’ve got to give them something or eventually …”

Crowley ran a tongue over his teeth. “I’ll do it. But I want something in return.”

You chuffed. “Of course you do.”

“A telephone call.”

You shook your head. “I can’t get you that.”

“Come on, Kitten. Even Dahmer got one telephone call.”

****

“Seriously?” Kevin whispered as you, he and Sam stood in a doorway just down from the dungeon. “You want to let Crowley communicate with Abaddon? A king and a power-mad knight of hell isn't enough for you? You want to throw a demonic team-up into the mix?”

“I don't think so,” you said. You looked at Sam, knowing you only had to get him on board. “I know you think I trust him too much, Sam. But that doesn’t mean my judgment’s so skewed I’d do something to endanger us. I know him. I can't honestly see him working with Abaddon. He hates her too much.”

“You might trust him,” Kevin snapped. “But we don’t. Right, Sam?” 

He looked at Sam but the Winchester was too busy studying your pleading look.

“I’m not asking you to trust him,” you said to Sam. “I’m asking you to trust me.”

Kevin swallowed as he watched Sam. He knew how easily the man was swayed by you but was he really so lenient as to trust your judgment around Crowley? You’d said it yourself – you trusted him too much. 

“I always trust you,” Sam said. 

“Are you serious?” Kevin said.

“Look, we don’t have to trust him,” Sam said to Kevin. “Crowley's bound. And we can end the call whenever we want. Even if he wanted to give Abaddon information, he has none to give her. He doesn't even know where the bunker is.”

Kevin’s shoulders slumped as he leaned back against the wall. There was no point arguing against two Winchester’s. He no longer had a say in what happened.

“He says he can decrypt the translation?” Kevin said in resignation. “What if he's lying?”

Sam nodded. “You're right. We're gonna need proof.”

The proof came with getting Crowley to translate a list of ingredients that Kevin had already translated. It took some teeth pulling but eventually he proved that he could read the text. 

“Now the rest of them,” Kevin said as he slapped down the page Crowley had crumpled up earlier. 

Crowley looked down at the page and smiled. “Phone call. You'll get the rest when I get paid. Now. Who's gonna be a dear and open up a vein?”

Sam sighed and rolled out the medical kit he was holding onto the table. There were five syringes in it. Sam pulled one out and prepared to inject himself with it but Crowley stopped him.

“What?” Sam said, the needle hovering over the skin of his inner elbow. 

“Not yours. His.” He nodded his head to where Kevin leaned against the far wall.

“What difference does it make?” you said.

“I've had Winchester blood. Stuck in here, you can't fault me for wanting a little variety.”

“No way!” Kevin snapped as he pushed off the wall and approached the table.

“What's wrong, Short Round? Afraid of needles?”

Kevin sneered. “No, I just have a policy of not giving blood to anyone who's murdered my mother.”

“I … have nothing … but time.”

“You're a dick,” Sam said as he began packing up the kit.

“Good luck with that translation.”

Kevin, frustrated and angry, grabbed a syringe from the kit and stuck the needle deep into his left arm above his anti-possession tattoo. Crowley watched on with a smug look as Kevin drew up half a syringe of blood.

****

Dean pulled the Impala up outside a small house in a residential neighbourhood. Cas had needed a ride to his dates house that night. 

“Thanks, Dean,” Cas said as he went to open the door.

“Cas. Wait,” Dean sighed. “I can't let you do this.”

“What?”

Dean eyed the blue work vest Cas still had on. “You're gonna wear that? On a date?”

Cas looked down at his clothes and ran a hand over his chest. “This is all I have, Dean.”

“Okay. Uh, lose the vest.”

“What are you –”

“Lose the vest, come on.”

Cas pressed his lips together but did as he was told before handing the vest to Dean. 

“That's a little better,” Dean said as he threw the vest into the back seat. He turned back to Cas and gave him an appraising look. “All right. There we go. And do the buttons – why don't you unbutton it?”

Cas began undoing them. When he didn’t stop after the second one, Dean chuckled.

“Okay,” Dean said. “Th-That's far enough, Tony Manero. Um ...” He gave Cas a once over before nodding. “Yeah. Good. All right. Listen to me. Always open the door for her, okay? Ask a lot of questions. They like that. And, uh ... oh, if she says she's happy to go Dutch … she's lying. All right?”

Cas nodded and gave Dean a thoughtful look. “Is that how your first date with Y/N went?”

Dean smiled and shook his head. “You kidding? No. No, she’s no ordinary woman. She wouldn’t have gone for any of that. No, our – our first date was after we got back from purgatory. We went to a diner – best one in town. She asked all the questions. We did a dine and dash – you know ‘cause we’d just gotten out of purgatory so we didn’t have any money. And she was the one that opened the door ‘cause she’s a faster runner than I am.”

Dean scratched his jaw and laughed at the memory. It had broken all his first date rules, and yet it was still the best first date he’d ever had. 

Cas smiled as he watched Dean’s face light up.

“I want that,” Cas said. Dean looked at him. “What you had? With Y/N? I want that.” He looked back towards the house. “This date … with Nora. It’s not what I want, Dean. And what happened with the reaper? I find that … I have feelings of regret when I think back to it. Not because she was evil but because she wasn’t … she wasn’t who I wanted to be with in that moment.”

“Cas, look at me,” Dean growled. Cas looked back and felt himself tense up the moment he saw Dean’s face. He was wearing the same expression he had when fighting monsters and torturing demons. It was hard and unforgiving though his voice was calm and quiet when he spoke.

“You and Y/N? It’s never gonna happen, okay? She’s spoken for, twice over. Not even over mine and Sam’s dead body will that ever happen. So whatever thoughts you have about her, whatever you think you feel for her. Bury it. Bury it so deep you forget it was ever there. You’re going on this date, Cas. And I don’t care how many more you go on. I don’t care how many women you have to screw to get my baby out of your mind. I don’t care how dirty you feel afterwards. You’re doing it. Because you better believe I won’t let you around Y/N while you wanna give her something she already has. You understand what I’m saying?”

Cas swallowed and nodded. 

“Good.” Dean relaxed and slapped Cas on the chest, man-to-man style. “Now, go get 'em, tiger.”

****

Crowley’s phone call to Abaddon didn’t go well. You couldn’t exactly tell what they were talking about but there was a lot of yelling on Crowley’s end about void contracts and plans failing. By the time he hung up he looked as worn and beaten as if he’d met Abaddon face to face.

“Bring me the translations,” he said as he stared off into the distance. When no one moved he looked up at Sam’s confused face. “I keep my agreements.”

You’d never seen Kevin move so fast. Crowley had the page back in his hands in seconds. 

He sighed as he looked down at the symbols. “Obtain the ingredients – heart, bow, Grace. Blah, blah, blah. Mix until the smoke shall rise from the ashes casting the angels from heaven. Blah, blah – Oh. Hm. It's irreversible.” He tossed the page back down onto the table and looked up at the three of you.

“What?” you said, dumbfounded.

“This spell can't be undone. The new world order – we're stuck with it.”

****

Dean groaned as he leaned back against his Impala – his body sore with the man-handling that had just been done to it. 

The Rit Zien had been possessing the very first victim’s husband and had zeroed in on Cas. Dean didn’t ask why, and Cas didn’t offer an explanation. All that mattered was the angel was dead and Nora’s house had been cleaned up just in time for her arrival back home, because, as it turned out, Cas had been asked to babysit, not to go on a date. 

Dean’s phone rang, and his heart leapt when he saw your caller ID. 

“Hey, baby,” he answered. “Didn’t think you’d ever call.”

“Yeah, well, you sicked Sam onto me. Who can say no to that puppy dog look of his?”

Dean chuckled as he turned to watch Cas and Nora exit the house and talk on the porch. “Yeah, it’s a helluva weapon. Especially against an angry wife.”

You sighed. “I didn’t call to talk about that, Dean. I called because Crowley translated the texts.”

Dean dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. He wanted to push it – to talk about what happened when he left – but he loved listening to your voice more, so he dropped it. 

“Yeah? Well, what’s it say?” Dean hadn’t been prepared for your answer. “What? Well, there's no way. Crowley's lying.”

“No, Dean, not this time. Look, Metatron built the spell to withstand any attempt to reverse it. There is no putting the angels back in Heaven. It's done.”

Dean sighed and leaned back against the Impala as he scrubbed a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you gonna tell Cas?” you said.

Dean looked over his shoulder at the man in question. He was walking down the front steps of Nora’s house to the car. 

“I don’t know. I’m – I’m still trying to process it myself. Look, baby, I – I gotta go. I don’t want to stay in a motel tonight.”

“It’s almost an 18-hour drive back here,” you said.

“Not the way I’m gonna drive.”

“Dean, don’t be stupid.”

His lips curled up in a small smile. He liked it when you worried about him. “I won’t, baby. I promise. I just want to come home to you. Tell you how sorry I am. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.”


	37. Bad Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean gets a phone call from an old friend about a ghost on his farm, you get to visit Dean's favourite place as a kid, and Sam is left wondering how he'd never known it existed in the first place.

You giggled when Dean’s arms wrapped around you from behind as you tried to make it up the stairs to the library. 

“Where are you going so quick?” he murmured as he buried his face in your neck and nipped at your skin.

You laughed again as you made it into the library with little to no help from Dean.

“Dean,” you whined, “we’ve been at it all morning. I need a break.”

He groaned at your refusal but slipped his hand down beneath your underwear anyway. 

“You don’t have to do anything. Just lay back on the table and let me do all the work.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why is it, whenever I don’t have to do the work I always end up the most exhausted?”

Dean hummed as he pulled down the shoulder of your flannel. “You love it,” he growled. He sank his teeth into your shoulder and pushed his hand down lower to cup your sex so he could push your ass back into his crotch. 

You mewled and dragged your bottom lip through your teeth. 

“What about Kevin?” you said in a last ditch attempt. It’s not that you didn’t want to give into him, it was just that if you did, you’d likely give in to him all day and be too tired for Sam, which would lead to a week of them bickering. 

“He’s dead to the world,” Dean said. He began leaving wet kisses up and down your neck and rubbing his fingers through your folds as he felt you start to give in to him. 

Just as your mouth dropped open and the last of your resistance began to fall away, Sam appeared from behind a bookshelf reading the spine of a book.

“Sam,” you said, more in surprise than anything. 

Sam glanced up at the two of you with a smile and a shake of his head before sinking into the nearest armchair to read. 

Dean chuckled and began walking you towards the closest table. “Sammy doesn’t mind. Nothing he hasn’t tried doing himself.”

You moaned as your hands landed on the top of the table and his fingers circled that bundle of nerves he always seemed to be drawn to. 

Then his phone buzzed on the table closest to Sam and his hand paused.

“Don’t you dare,” you growled as you pushed your ass back into his crotch. “You are not about to answer that after talking me into this.”

He groaned and pushed back against your ass. You didn’t need to say any more for him to continue his ministrations. 

His phone kept buzzing and you and Dean ignored it until Sam let out a sound of frustration and got up to answer it himself. 

You moaned and let your head fall back as the pleasure began building. Dean left a trail of open-mouthed kisses up your neck. 

“Hello?” you vaguely heard Sam say. “I’m sorry, there's no, uh … there's no Dee-dawg, uh...”

Dean pulled away from you and ran to Sam like he wasn’t just getting himself off against your ass.

“Dean!” you snapped as you stormed off after him, your face a mix of lust and anger and your underwear sitting crookedly on your hips. 

He gave you an apologetic look over his shoulder before snatching the phone from Sam and putting it to his ear. 

You narrowed your eyes at him and folded your arms as you stopped next to Sam. 

“Sonny, hey,” Dean said into the phone. Hearing Sonny’s name sizzled out your anger as quickly as it sparked up. “So what's up? Okay. All right. Yeah, just sit tight. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Sam chuffed when Dean hung up. “So, what was that all about, Dee-dawg?”

“You remember when we were kids that spring in upstate New York? Dad was on a rugaru hunt,” Dean said. “We, uh – we crashed at the, uh ... the bungalow colony with the ping-pong table?”

Sam thought for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah. Uh, y-you disappeared. Dad came back. You were gone. He shipped me off to Bobby's for a couple months and went and … found you. You were lost on a hunt or something.”

“That’s what you told him?” you said. Dean nodded.

Sam gave you a confused look. “I'm sorry? That's what he told me?”

“Truth is,” Dean said as he pocketed his mobile, “uh … I lost the food money that Dad left for us in a card game. I knew you'd get hungry, so ... I tried taking the five-finger discount at the local market and got busted.”

Dean dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. You could tell he was having difficulty deciding on what to tell Sam. On one hand, Sam would eventually find out where Dean had been when they rocked up to the farm. On the other hand, his experience there wasn’t something Dean wanted Sam to know about. 

In fact, you and Sonny were the only people that knew what really happened to Dean. 

“He wasn’t on a hunt, Sam,” you said as you looked up the man. “They sent him to a boys’ home.”

Sam frowned. “A boys' home, like a … reform school?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, more or less. It was a farm, and the guy who ran it – Sonny – he, uh, you know, he looked after me.”

Sam held up a hand. “Wait. Does Sonny know what we do?”

“Yeah. He's good people. I gave him the number to the Bat Phone, and sounds like he's got something in our wheelhouse.”

Dean looked at you. “So ... hey – you gonna be cool to do this, or are you too tired?”

You smiled and shrugged. You knew he was asking because you’d been getting overly tired the last few days. 

“Yeah,” you said, “I'm just, uh ... I'll be fine.” You nodded and gave him another smile.

Dean braced his hands against the table and gave you an intense look. “And everybody's okay with … heading out to the Catskills?”

He was looking right at you but it didn’t feel like his question was directed towards you. 

Sam gave him a hard look but you could only manage a bemused one as you glanced between the brothers. 

“Uh … I don’t know. Sam? Are you – are you cool with this?”

“Peachy,” Sam said, his eyes still boring into Dean’s skull.

Dean straightened and nodded once. “Yeah. All right. Grab your stuff, and we'll head out.”

“Hey, Dean,” Sam said when his brother turned to leave. “I mean, why didn't you just tell me you went to a boys' home? Y/N knows.”

Dean shrugged. “I don't know. Uh, it was Dad's idea. And then it just – you know, the story became the story. I was 16.” He left then, leaving Sam without much of an answer. 

Sam looked at you and you sighed. “He tells me everything, Sam. Just like you do. There’s more to Sonny’s farm but …” you shrugged, “it’s not my place to say anything. Just like I don’t tell Dean about the secrets you had as a kid. About all those places you used to run off to when John got too much to handle.”

Sam sighed through his nose and leaned back against the table. You rested your hands against his stomach as you leaned in close and gave him a patient smile. 

“Sam, I know you. You’re gonna get curious and ask him questions. And that’s okay, he’ll expect that. But please … don’t get angry and don’t push him if he doesn’t want to tell you something. He has his reasons.”

Sam pressed his lips together in thought before suddenly looking up and giving you a soft smile. He cupped his large hands around your face and rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks. 

“You’re too good to us. You know that?” he said. 

 

A blush spread across your cheeks and you had to stifle a smile as you glanced down at your feet. 

You lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Well, I mean, you guys give me multiple, mind-numbing orgasms almost every day. Gotta even the playing field, right?”

Sam chuckled and let his hands fall to tug at the bottom of your flannel. “True,” he said, “but it looks like Dean left you high and wet back there.” He lifted the flannel and straightened out your crooked underwear. 

You pressed your lips together. “Yeah but you’re going to help me with that.”

Sam raised his brows as you looked back up at him. “Really?”

You grinned and leaned into him. “Dean’s driving.”

****

You were in the backseat, lax and content, and Sam was back in the passenger seat, smelling of sex, when Dean finally pulled into Sonny’s driveway. 

Sam looked over the farm fields before letting his eyes drift to the farm house.

“You were here for two months and Dad couldn't find you?” he said.

“Oh, no,” Dean said as the car rolled to a stop. “He found me. He found me quick. But he left me here 'cause I lost our money.”

You ducked your head down to look at the upper floor of the farmhouse and saw someone peeking through one of the top windows. It looked like a young boy but from this distance, you couldn’t be sure. 

“You were 16,” Sam said. “You made a mistake.”

“Yeah. I made the mistake,” Dean said as he got out the car. You and Sam crawled out after him. “Look, I know how you think. None of this was Dad's fault.”

Sam dropped the subject, just like you’d asked him to back at the bunker, and Dean threaded his fingers through yours as the three of you headed up the porch steps. 

A middle-aged woman wearing a sweater and a large cross on a necklace answered the door when Dean knocked. She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes as she looked at the three of you. You were guessing she was the ‘Ruth’ Dean had always told you about.

“What can I do for you lot?” she said after Dean greeted her with a smile. 

“I'm Dean. This is my brother, Sam, and my wife, Y/N. We're old buddies of Sonny's.”

“Prison buddies?” Ruth said, eyeing Sam and Dean in particular. 

Dean swallowed and seemed taken aback. Sam coughed into his hand and you could see that he was already imagining what this place must have been like for Dean. 

You also knew that anything he was imagining was as far from the truth as he could get. 

“No. Uh ... you mind telling him that we're here?” Dean said. 

She paused a moment as her eyes flitted over the three of you. “I'll go get him,” she finally said as she turned to head into the house. Just as you all went to follow her, she turned back. “I just mopped this floor, so you take off those roach stompers.”

You stifled a smiled before balancing yourself on Dean’s shoulder and kicking off your boots. Sam and Dean followed suit. 

“Sonny's an ex-con, huh?” Sam said quietly. 

Dean gave him an annoyed look and scoffed. “What, and we're such angels? Trust me, he's more than made up for it.”

Dean guided you ahead of him into the house as Sam brought up the rear. 

You took a left just inside the door and stood in a living room, waiting with the brothers.

Dean flung an arm over your shoulder to pull you in close and gesture to an old, orange couch to your left. 

“That’s the dingy old couch I was telling you about,” he murmured in your ear. 

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his forearm before glancing up at him.

Dean had to admit, it felt good to have someone to reminisce with. Especially when it was someone like you who got excited over the littlest things from his childhood. 

You’d always said you wished you could have met the brothers when they were kids. And whilst Dean would have loved nothing more than to have known you when you were just a kid, he was man enough to admit that his teenage self would have had no chance being able to handle you. 

Hell, he didn’t think even John would have known what to do with you. Because the only thing John knew how to do with kids, was put them on a leash. Keep them in line. And whilst that had worked for Dean. He knew you would have been just like Sam – maybe worse – and fought John at every turn. 

Dean looked up just as a man wearing glasses walked in – Sonny. 

“Dee-dawg!” Sonny said with a smile.

“Sonny! Good to see you,” Dean said, returning the man’s smile as he pulled away from you and hugged him. 

“Hey, you, too, brother.” Sonny pulled back and looked at Sam. “Oh, and this must be Sam.”

“Good to meet you,” Sam said with a polite smile as he shook Sonny’s outstretched hand. 

“Back at you, brother.”

Sonny’s eyes fell on you and you felt the sudden need to live up to every standard and expectation that he probably didn’t even have of you. 

Dean gave you a gentle smile and motioned you forward so he could wrap his arm around your waist. 

“And this is Y/N,” Dean said. He looked at Sonny. “She’s my wife.”

Sonny’s brows lifted in shock. “Wife?” He looked at you and chuckled. “Well, come here, sweetheart.”

You had never been one for hugging strangers but Sonny was important to Dean. The last thing you wanted to do was turn down a hug from him, so you squeezed him back just as tightly when his arms wrapped around you. 

When he pulled away and held you back at arm’s length with his hands on your shoulders, he smiled and gave you a once over.

“Wow, a wife,” he said. He let you go back and lean into Dean. “Glad to finally see you settling down, brother.”

You chuckled. “I don’t know that he’s settled down all that much.”

Dean smiled down at you and squeezed you to his side. “Yeah, she, uh … she keeps me on my toes.”

He gave Dean a knowing look. “I wasn’t talking about your work, son.”

Dean wasn’t sure what else the man could mean, so he looked around the room instead before saying, “So, farm looks, uh, nice.”

Sonny scoffed. “Oh, please, man. It's barely standing. Only got a handful of kids working around here now.”

“Why's that?” you said. 

“Because these days, the system would rather incarcerate a boy than redeem him.”

“Hey, Sonny,” Sam said as he eyed Ruth – she was wiping down a nearby table and periodically glancing up at the four of you, “uh, you – you mind if we talk alone?”

Sonny turned to Ruth. “Hey, Ruth, would you, uh, please go check on the boys, make sure their morning chores are getting done?”

Ruth pressed her lips together but didn’t say a word as she left the room. 

“Alright. So, what's happening?” Dean said when Sonny turned back to the three of you.

“Well, you remember Jack, don't you?” Sonny said.

“Yeah. The, uh, tough, old leatherneck.”

“Mm-hmm. Well, somehow, that ancient, rusty, broken-down tractor just roared to life and ran him over the other night.”

“Maybe – maybe it just, uh, slipped out of park or something,” Sam said.

“Couldn't have,” Sonny said with a shake of his head. “You know, I never – I never believed any of this mumbo-jumbo stuff you lot are into, but ... something ain't right.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, just … things started happening – you know, lights flickering on and off, strange scratching sounds coming from inside the walls, windows and doors slamming.”

Dean nodded. “Alright. You think you can round up the boys while we take a look around?”

“Well, that shouldn't be a problem,” Sonny said. “Most are home on break – well, except those with no home worth going to.”

Sonny left through the same way Ruth did. Dean pulled his arm from around you so he could turn to you both. 

“Alright. Why don't you two take the house? I'll check out the barn.”

****

Through the entire sweep of the house, you’d practically been vibrating with excitement. Sam thought that maybe you were just pumped to be on a hunt – you got like that sometimes – but when the two of you reached one of the upper bedrooms and you all but squealed in glee at the sight of the beds, Sam knew that wasn’t the case. 

You hovered around the beds, searching the ends of them for something. When you stopped in front of one and motioned Sam over with a wide grin, Sam knew what you’d been looking for. 

There were occult symbols notched into the end of one of the beds. 

“This was Dean’s,” you said as you dropped to your knees and started pulling off the layers of taped name labels. 

When you reached Dean’s name label you looked up at Sam in triumph. Sam chuffed and knelt next to you. 

He watched your face as you traced your fingers over the notches. He could practically feel himself falling in love all over again with the rare shine of innocence in your eyes. 

He opened his mouth to ask you something stupid. Something like: Where have you been all my life? Or: Will you always be the place me and Dean keep our secrets? 

Something chick-flick worthy because all he wanted just then was for you to smile at him like he was crazy and laugh. 

But there was a sound in the bathroom and you were on your feet with your knife drawn in seconds. Your smile was gone and you were standing in front of his crouched form like you would protect him from every monster in the world.

For a moment – a brief, child-like moment – he wanted you to. Then he remembered, for all your strength and courage, you were the one that needed protecting from the monsters. Because all too often, you fell in love with the worst of them. 

He brushed past you with his own knife drawn and pushed through the door of the bathroom. A bathroom that turned out to be another bedroom. 

Ruth was kneeling at the side of the bed, praying over a set of rosary beads. She leapt to her feet in fright when Sam burst in with you coming up behind. 

“Hey. I am so sorry,” Sam said as he tucked his knife away. 

You did the same and gave her an apologetic smile. “Yeah, sorry. I-I-I thought I ... saw something in, uh –”

“Like a ghost?” she said.

She seemed far more pleasant just then as she looked out the window than she had earlier.

Sam gave her a questioning glance and she looked down at the rosary beads in her hands.

“Sonny told me you were old friends,” she said, “but … I know why you're really here. That's why I was praying for us.”

“Praying for what?” you said, still not entirely convinced she actually knew what was going on.

She gave you a slight smile. “For the ghost that haunts this farm to leave.” 

She sank down onto her bed and heaved out a sigh before looking back at the two of you. 

“I grew up in this town,” she said. “I used to come up here as a little girl. The Wasserman's, Howard and Doreen – they used to own this farm back then. My co-worker, Jack, may he rest in peace, he worked here as a farmhand. Howard was a nice man, but ... well, he'd get into that corn liquor, and … one night he got it into his thick skull that Jack and his wife, Doreen, were rolling around in the hay. It wasn't true, but – but Howard's paranoia got the better of him. He tried to kill them both. Jack got away, but Doreen ...”

“He killed her?” Sam said.

Ruth swallowed visibly. “With a meat cleaver. Got life in jail. Which for Howard ended a year ago. He always swore he'd get his revenge on poor old Jack, and ... looks like he finally got it.”

“Is Howard buried here in town?” you said.

****

He was. 

Sam and Dean were six feet deep in the man’s grave. You sat on the edge, watching them dig as they talked. 

“So … Dad didn't want you to tell me. How come? Was this place really so bad?” Sam said.

Dean shrugged as he threw a shovel full of dirt onto the growing pile behind him and Sam. “I don't really remember. I mean, look, nobody bad touched me. Nobody burned me with their smokes or beat me with a metal hanger. I call that a win.”

Sam looked at you and chuckled when he saw the amused glint in your eye. 

“Hey,” Dean said.

You and Sam looked down to see he’d hit the coffin. Sam opened it up as Dean climbed out of the grave and helped you to your feet. 

Once Sam was out, the three of you poured salt over the bones before Dean tossed in a light and watched them burn up. 

****

With the hunt finished, you convinced Dean to take you to a restaurant called Cus’s Place. Sonny used to take him there all the time and it was where his first crush worked – Robin. 

Unfortunately, it had all ended in embarrassment for Dean. You’d been excited to meet her but she didn’t even remember him. 

He’d hustled you out of the restaurant, saying he hadn’t wanted to eat there in the first place while Sam tried to ask him who she was to him.

That’s when Dean got the call from Sonny.

Ruth was dead – drowned in the bath.

The ghost was still on the loose.

And it most definitely wasn’t the guy you’d burned.

“I tried to get in to save her,” Sonny said as he looked over at the coroner’s van where they were wheeling a body bag, “but the damn door wouldn't open.”

“Locked?” Sam said.

Sonny shook his head. “There's no locks on the farm.”

Dean heaved out a sigh as he ran his fingers through his head. “That means our little field trip to the cemetery was a bust.”

“Sonny, is there anything else weird you can remember?” you said.

“What, 'cause we're not chest-deep in weird already, sweetheart?”

“I know, I know. I mean anything – really.”

He pressed his lips together in thought before he said, “There was one thing. Ruth always had her rosary beads with her, but now I can't find them anywhere.”

“Alright,” Sam said. “Um, let's start with the vics, okay? I mean, both lived in the house. They both, uh, worked closely with the boys.”

“Why don't me and Y/N go have a chat with the rug rats, see what's up?”

Sam nodded and looked to Sonny. “Yeah. Sonny, you got any employee records on the victims?”

Sony nodded and started towards the house. “In my office. Let's do it.”

Sam followed him whilst you and Dean headed around the side of the house to find two boys picking on a younger boy with glasses. 

He was much smaller than them, and when you looked closely you could see that he was the boy you’d seen in the window earlier that day. 

The boys called him Timmy – followed promptly by some nasty words of which you clapped them over the ears for. 

“What are you doing?” you growled as they stepped back in shock.

“Nothing,” the smaller of the two said.

You narrowed your eyes at them. They swallowed and Dean turned to Timmy.

“Timmy, what's going on?” Dean said. Timmy remained silent and the bigger of the two boys huffed.

“Alright, you two,” you snapped. “Where were you this morning when Ruth had her accident?”

The bigger boy rolled his eyes. “Unless you're a cop, we don't need to tell you anything.”

You clenched your teeth together as Dean pulled his badge from his pocket and shoved it in their faces. “Well ... how about that?”

The kid huffed. “We weren't even here this morning. Sonny sent us into town to get some chicken feed – we swear.”

“What about Ruth? What can you tell me about her?” Dean said. 

“Uh, we used to call her the warden,” the smaller one said. “She was a real Bible-thumping hard-ass.”

The bigger one nodded in agreement.

Dean scoffed. “Obviously. What else? Anything different or weird you can think of?”

The bigger one smirked and peered around you to Timmy. 

“You mean besides Timmy?”

Both the boys laughed as Timmy ducked his head, looking about as miserable as you’d felt as a kid. 

“Hey!” you snapped. Both boys jumped in fright and looked at you. You narrowed your eyes at them. “Either of you touch him ever again, I'm gonna go all Guantánamo on you.” The smaller one swallowed. “Understand me? You get the hell out of here. Go on! Get.”

You gestured away from your body in irritation and they scurried off. 

You turned to comfort Timmy only to find Dean already kneeling in front of him, handing him back the action figure he must have dropped. 

“Hey. You and Bruce okay?” he said, and you realised Timmy must have been the kid Dean said he’d seen in the barn.

Timmy nodded. “Yeah.”

“Listen to me. Guys like that – they're cowards, okay? All you got to do is stand up to them one time and they'll stop, I promise.”

You felt yourself smile and soften as you watched Dean interact with Timmy. Not for the first time, you thought about how he might act with your child. 

****

Not long after you and Dean left Timmy, there was screaming coming from the front yard. The smaller kid that had been bullying Timmy had been mowing the lawn when the mower jammed.

He’d turned it off and flipped it on its side like he was meant to and found Ruth’s rosary beads caught up in the blades. But, in a freak accident, the mower turned itself back on and shredded the kid's hand. 

“Kid's gonna need about eight thousand stitches, but he'll be fine,” Dean said when he and you walked into Sonny’s office an hour later to find Sam reading through some files.

Sam didn’t look up when the two of you entered. Instead, he dragged his bottom lip through his teeth as he studied the file in front of him. 

“That kid was bullying Timmy before the accident, right?” he said.

“Yeah. Why?” Dean said.

“Check this out.” Sam handed the file over to you and Dean looked over your shoulder at it. “Timmy was found in an abandoned building about a year ago all by himself. No one was sure how long he had been there.”

“And what about his parents?” you said as you handed the file back to Sam.

“Well, they posted a picture on the Internet, but no one ever showed up.”

“Well, then, what's he doing here? Shouldn't he be in an orphanage?”

Sam shrugged. “He kept running away from child services. So about three months ago, Sonny offered to take him in.”

“Alright,” Dean said, “so hard-ass counsellors, bullies, all bite the dust, but Timmy's still standing. So, what are we talking? We got ourselves a demon on our hands?”

“No. EMF rules out a demon. So ... probably ghost possession.”

“Meaning what, we find Timmy and shove a fistful of salt down his throat, forced ejection?”

Sam pressed his lips together, not entirely sure that he had an answer to give his brother.

Dean sighed and pointed at Sam. “You're taking the barn this time.”

****

Much to Dean’s chagrin, Robin had turned up to the house to give guitar lessons. The two of you walked into the living room to find her on the couch tuning her guitar.

She looked up when the two of you walked in.

“Oh. Hey,” she said. “Uh, what happened to you guys at the diner? I turned around to take your order, and you were just … gone.”

“Long story,” Dean said shortly as he stepped further into the room. “Um, have you seen Timmy?”

“No, not yet, but he should be here any minute for his guitar lesson.”

“Yeah, we're gonna cancel that.”

“What?”

“We got to get out of here, okay?” Dean said. “I don't have time to explain. You just got to trust me.”

“T-trust you?” She scoffed and put her guitar to the side. “And why would I do that again?”

“You do remember him,” you said as you stepped up next to Dean.

Dean sighed. “Baby now’s not the time to reminisce. And even if it were, not exactly my best memory of the place.”

Robin shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, of course I remember. How could I forget?”

Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth in annoyance before he said, “There were – there were reasons why I had to leave. I don't have time to explain them to you right now. I got to get you out of here.”

He moved forward, took a hold of her wrist and pulled her to her feet. She protested as he dragged her to the front door but fell quiet when it slammed shut by itself.

“I'm sorry,” Timmy said.

The three of you whirled around to see the boy standing there, clutching his action figure.

“Sorry about what, Timmy?” you said.

“I can't stop it.”

A vase shattered against the door behind you, as though someone had thrown it. You and Dean flinched as glass rained down on the back of you and Robin screamed. 

You pushed her through the living room and into the kitchen, Dean coming in behind you.

More vases began flying and smashing against walls, Dean picked up a fireplace poker as he passed. 

Just as you pushed Robin towards the back door in the kitchen, Sam stepped up onto the back porch and opened the door. 

“Sam, go!” you said.

Without question, he pushed the door open wider and stepped back to let you through.

The door slammed shut again before you made it, trapping Sam outside. Dean went straight for the kitchen cabinets and you left Robin in the middle of the room to try to help Sam with the door.

It was no use, and eventually, Sam had to bang his hands on the door window to get you to stop trying. 

“Y/N, hey, sweetheart. It’s okay. The door’s not opening. It’s alright. I’ll be fine out here,” he said. You pressed your hands against the glass and looked up at him. “But you need to know that it’s Timmy, okay? He’s the reason.”

You frowned and shook your head. “I don’t – I don’t know –”

“I found something in the barn,” he continued. “His mum died in a fire trying to save him. He was lost in the woods so he begged for his mum and she showed up. But she was different. “

You nodded and stepped away from the door. You turned back to Dean and caught the box of salt that he threw to you.

You didn’t have to ask, you just made a large circle around Robin. 

“Dean, what – what just happened in there?” Robin said.

Dean turned to her. “Okay, listen to me. Whatever happens, you stay inside this circle. Understood?”

You straightened once the circle was done only to find Timmy standing in the entrance of the kitchen. 

“Dean,” you said.

He turned at the warning in your tone and froze when he saw Timmy. 

“I can't control her,” Timmy said. 

“Can't control who?” Dean said.

You stepped forward. “Your mom, right?”

Timmy said nothing. Dean watched you.

You put the salt down and moved forward to kneel in front of Timmy. 

“Timmy, listen. We need you to tell us about the fire, okay?” you said gently.

He swallowed, nodded, then said, “It was late, and we were driving home when we crashed in the woods. Everything was on fire. But she saved me, pushed me out ... before the car blew up... with her in it.”

“But that's not all, was it?”

He shook his head and squeezed his hands around his action figure. “I ran through the woods. I found an empty building, where I hid. I was scared. It was dark and cold. So I cried. I cried for my mom. And then she came.”

“But she'd changed, right?”

The sound of Dean’s boots coming up behind you had Timmy looking up over your head. 

“I'll bet she gave you that cool action figure, huh?”

“Yeah. When I turned 9.”

“Timmy,” you said, “I'm gonna need that action figure.”

Before he got a chance to process your request, something hit you, hard, and you went flying against the wall. 

You grunted as you hit the ground and looked up just in time to see Dean swing his iron poker through the ghost of a burned woman as she approached you. 

She dissipated and, without a word, Dean snatched the toy from Timmy, turned on the gas burner on the oven and threw the toy on there. 

You pushed yourself to your feet, your heart breaking at Timmy’s cries of despair as he watched his toy melt. You surged forward and took him by the shoulders before pushing him into the salt circle with Robin. She wrapped her arms around him protectively.

The moment the toy was dead and gone, however, a gust of wind blew in from a cracked window and broke the salt circle. 

“It looks like it wasn't the action figure that was anchoring her here, Dean,” you said.

“Then what is?!” he snapped. You didn’t take offense to his tone. He wasn’t angry or frustrated with you.

You looked at Timmy as a thought occurred to you. “Him.” You walked over to Dean and wrapped your fingers around the edges of his coat jacket. “I think maybe his mom can't let go and she's still protecting him from the grave.”

“Protecting him from what?” Dean said quietly as he leaned towards you. “What, from us?”

You shrugged. “Maybe she doesn't know what threats are real and what's not, so she just attacks all of them.”

“Great. So, what, unless we waste the kid, we're sitting ducks?”

“This is – this is crazy,” Robin said. Then she stepped out of the remnants of the circle and bolted for the front of the house. 

“Robin! Damn it,” Dean growled. He ran off after her, leaving you to figure out what to do with Timmy.

You looked to the back door, hoping Sam would be there to give you some advice but he wasn’t. You figured he must have run for the front door in the hopes that Robin actually got it open. 

There was a scream and a grunt from the front of the house. Which meant that was probably where the ghost had gone. 

 

You looked back to Timmy. He was out of the circle now too, huddled on the floor and leaning against the wall.

Thinking fast, you went and knelt before him. 

“Timmy, we're gonna need your help, okay?” Sam said. He wouldn’t even look at you. “Listen to me. I need you to focus, okay? Look, we are not here to hurt you.”

Timmy’s eyes lifted to the space above your head and a pair of heavy, cold hands landed on your shoulders and you were being yanked back and thrown against the wall again. 

The ghost stood in the middle of the kitchen, a snarl on her face as she held a clawed hand out towards you. You were pinned against the wall, and the pressure around your heart seemed to increase. 

“Y/N!” Dean yelled as he came running into the kitchen. The moment the ghost saw him he was thrown back against the wall adjacent to you. He groaned and fell to the ground when she clenched her other fist in his direction.

“I can't stop her,” Timmy said as he put his hands over his ears. 

“Timmy, you have to try!” Dean said. 

The ghost gave him a threatening look.

You looked to the back door when you heard a bang to find Sam throwing his shoulder against it from the outside. 

“She came to you when you cried out for her,” Dean continued in a strained voice. “Now you have to tell her to stop and go away!”

“She's my mom.”

“She's a ghost. Timmy, because she can't move on, she's going crazy. Okay? You got to let her go. You'll be okay.”

The ghost clenched the hand she held out towards you and you cried out as a sharp pain sliced through your lungs. 

“Listen to me,” Dean said, his tone far more urgent as he watched you struggle. “Sometimes you got to do what's best for you, even if it's gonna hurt the ones you love.”

For a moment Timmy did nothing, and you were sure this was going to be the end. He was going to sit there and watch you die. But then, he adjusted his glasses and stood.

“Mommy... stop it,” he said. His voice trembled and the ghost didn’t bother to look at him. But it was a start.

“Timmy, Kung Fu grip!” Dean ground out through clenched teeth. 

“Mommy, stop it!” Timmy yelled. His voice didn’t tremble that time. “Stop hurting people!”

You and Dean gasped in relief when the ghost let the two of you go and turned to Timmy. You slid to the ground, your hand on your ribs as you fought through the pain of breathing.

Dean looked at you and you nodded your okay.

Sam stopped throwing his shoulder against the door and watched through the window as the ghost held her arms out to Timmy. 

Timmy didn’t go to her. “You have to go,” he said. “Never come back. I'll be okay. I promise.”

Before the last words left his mouth, a ghostly essence peeled off the ghost, leaving behind a beautiful, blonde woman. Her arms were still open and she was smiling down at Timmy. 

“I love you, too,” Timmy said and his mum faded away. 

Timmy ran straight to Dean and threw his arms around the man. Dean embraced him just as Sam finally came bursting through the door and fell to your side.

“I’m okay,” you said as he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m okay. Promise.”

Sam helped you to your feet just as Robin stepped tentatively into the room.

****

“Do you ever regret it?” you said as you and Dean stood by the front porch to watch Sam and Sonny talk by the Impala. 

“Regret what?” he said.

“Leaving this place.”

He thought for a second and shrugged. “I used to think about this place all the time. Sometimes I regretted it but I just kept moving forward.”

“And now?”

“Now?” He looked down at you and smiled. “Now, I look at you and I don’t regret a damn thing. Everything I’ve ever done brought me to you.”

You smiled back and wrapped your hand around the front of his jacket to pull him down for a deep kiss.

“That was a damn good answer, Dean Winchester,” you said when you pulled back. 

He chuckled to himself as you headed towards Sam and Sonny. Then he followed behind. 

“Sounds like Timmy's gonna need some help adjusting,” Sonny said as the two of you reached him. 

“Yeah,” Dean said, “but he's got you.”

Sonny gave him a fond smile. “I always hate to see you go, Dee-dawg. Can't thank you enough for this one, man.”

The two of them clasped hands and Sonny pulled him in for a hug before turning to you.

“Sweetheart. It was a pleasure. I wanna thank you for keeping my man here in line.”

You laughed as he pulled you in for a hug. “He’s not so tough to handle. We'll see you around, Sonny.”

“You can bet on that.” He pulled back and turned to look at the boys. “Take it easy, boys.”

He left and the three of you went to your respective sides of the Impala. 

“Hey, h-how did you know Timmy asking his mom to leave was gonna work?” Sam said to Dean over the car. 

Dean shrugged. “I didn't. Total hail Mary. Got lucky.”

“You just got lucky?” Dean nodded. “Kind of like you did with this place. I mean, here I was thinking this was the worst part of your life, and it turns out it was the best. Why'd you ever leave?”

Dean shrugged and looked up at the farm house. “Never felt right.”

“Really?”

“It was two months, Sam, okay? And I couldn't wait to get out of here. I don't know what to tell you. It wasn't me.”

Sam nodded, not at all convinced by Dean’s words but he wanted to respect your wishes and not fight over it. 

He slid into the car and you and Dean shared a look. 

Because you both knew the reason Dean left was for Sammy. And that was just something Sam would never get over. 

He would think that he’d ruined Dean’s one shot at happiness but Dean knew now that his shot at happiness had been waiting for him to rescue her from insanity. 

If he’d known that as a kid … he would have run the other way. Because you would have chewed him up and spat him back out, and at that young age he wouldn’t have been able to handle you. 

He still couldn’t but at least now he was old enough see the value in that.


	38. Stuck Between A Rock And A Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A phone call from Jody has the three of you taking a trip to church and taking a chastity vow. You and Dean barely last an hour before you break your vows. The catch? The monster you're hunting has been going after everyone that broke their vows.

Dean was walking down the hall from Kevin’s room just as Sam stepped out from his own, almost bumping into his bother.

“Morning,” Sam said as he smoothed down his hair.

Dean frowned slightly when he didn’t see your head pop out from behind his little brother. “Hey. Y/N in there with you?”

The corners of Sam’s mouth turned down as he shook his head. “She stayed with you last night.”

“Yeah, but … she got up a few hours ago to get breakfast. Figured she went to your room when she didn’t come back to see Kevin with me.”

Sam thought for a moment. “Jogging?”

Dean shook his head as he dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. “No. She’s been too tired for that.”

Sam shrugged. “She could be talking to Crowley. He’s been guilt-tripping her about not visiting him more often in the dungeon.”

Dean rolled his eyes and started down the hall towards the kitchen. Sam fell into step beside him.

“Hey, I wanna talk to you about something,” Sam said. 

“What’s the matter, Sammy. You breaking up with me?” Dean said as he smiled at his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s about Y/N.”

“What about her?”

“Why … why did you introduce her as your wife to Sonny?”

Dean gave him a confused look. “’Cause she’s my wife. What, you haven’t got the memo by now?”

Sam sighed. “No, I know that, Dean. I mean, why didn’t you introduce her as my wife too?”

Dean stopped and turned to his brother. “What are you talking about, Sam?”

Sam stopped as well. “I mean, she’s dating both of us, right? So, why don’t we just tell people that? Why do we always have to take turns? Eventually, we’re gonna forget who we’ve introduced her to and as what. I mean, do we really need to lie about it?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “We’re not lying, Sam.”

“By omission.” Dean shook his head and kept walking. Sam followed. “Are – are you ashamed or something?”

“Of course not,” Dean growled. 

“Then what? Why are you trying to bury this?”

“Look, I have no problem with people knowing she’s dating both of us,” Dean said. “But Y/N doesn’t need the ridicule that comes with it. This is America. People are only accepting if it’s mainstream and the first ones to cop the crap if it’s not are women. You’re a nerd, you should know that.”

Sam nodded, a little in shock at his brother’s words. “That’s actually, uh, pretty progressive. For you.”

“Yeah, well, dating the same woman as your brother will do that to you.”

The two of them turned a corner, going down the last stretch of hall before they reached the kitchen. 

“Look, Dean, we don’t have to tell everyone we meet. Not if we’re just talking to them for a case. But we should tell our friends, at least. You know, the ones who call us in once or twice a year.”

“If I tell you I’ll think about it, will you shut up?”

Sam’s jaw ticked and he opened his mouth to argue some more but stopped when Dean paused in the doorway of the kitchen. 

Sam peered over his head to find you fast asleep at the table, half a bowl of cereal sitting in front of you.

“She’s getting worse,” Sam said.

“You don’t think I know that?” Dean growled as he stepped into the room. “What else am I meant to do?”

Sam held his hands up. “Hey, I’m on your side, Dean. I just mean that she’s tired all the time now. We should think about what’s doing this.”

“What are you talking about, Sam? We know what’s doing this. Zeke’s just been using his mojo power too much.”

Sam pressed his lips together and gave Dean a sad look. “What if that’s not it?” Dean shook his head in denial as he ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at you. “I mean, she gets overly tired when she relapses. You said it seemed like Zeke was healing her mind too but what if he wasn’t? What if it was just a – a – a … I don’t know … a chemical imbalance from – from the possession?”

“What you mean like an adrenaline hit?”

“Yeah. And – and maybe things are starting to settle down now and … and maybe she’s crashing. Physically, she’s healing but mentally … maybe she’s just going back to normal.”

“This isn’t normal, Sam,” Dean growled as he gestured to you. 

“It is for her.”

Dean looked at his brother, looking as lost as Sam felt. Then he shook his head again and Sam knew Dean was going to deny it for as long as he could. 

He wrapped a hand around your shoulder and gently shook you as he leant down to wake you. 

You were all hooded eyes and messy hair when you roused. 

“Hey,” you said to Dean with a sleepy smile as you straightened at the table.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to your temple before moving to retrieve his own bowl. 

Your smile brightened when you saw Sam and he couldn’t help but feel his mood lift despite his heavy conscience. 

“Morning, Sammy,” you said.

“Hey, uh, you okay?” Sam said as he took the seat across from you.

“Yeah. Just, uh ... resting my head for a second. Um, how's Kevin? He, uh -- he find anything?”

“Jack,” Dean said as he sat at the head of the table, adjacent to you and Sam, with his cereal. “On about four days no sleep. He looks worse than you.”

“Shut up,” you chuckled as you kicked at his leg under the table. Dean gave you a smile but it faltered when he saw you try to cover your yawn. “What about Crowley? Um, do you think he might be lying about the whole, uh, Metatron's spell being irreversible thing?” 

“Oh, Crowley lie?” You chuffed, bringing the smile back to Dean’s face. “I do know one thing. Next time that junkie's jonesing for a hit of blood, we got leverage.”

 

You nodded as you let out another loud yawn. You looked like you were about to fall back to sleep right there. 

“Maybe you should go back to bed for a few hours,” Sam said as he leaned his elbows on the table with a concerned look.

You shook your head and ran your fingers through your hair. “No, I'm fine.”

“You’re sick, baby,” Dean said. 

“No, I'm not sick. I'm just, um -- I feel like my battery can't recharge.”

You pulled your bowl of cereal closer as Sam and Dean shared a look. Sam hoped that it was enough for his brother to stop denying what was in front of him but then Dean’s phone rang and the hope went down the drain.

Dean pulled his phone from his pocket. “Hello?” he answered. “Sheriff Mills?” He pulled the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker. “Hang on. Sam's here, too. And Y/N.”

“Y/N?” Jody said. 

Dean looked at Sam as he realised you and Jody hadn’t met yet. Sam raised his brows, a silent reference to their earlier conversation.

“Uh, sorry, Sheriff. Forget the two of you haven’t met yet. But I’m guessing you’re about to if you’re calling us.”

“Uh, yeah,” Jody said. “I got a bit of an oddball to pitch your direction.”

“Shoot.”

“A small town I cover outside of Sioux Falls -- only crime to speak of being the occasional cow tipping. Then last week ... four people go missing.”

“Aright,” Sam said, “so, what makes you think this is our kind of weird?”

“I've got a witness who says he saw someone lift an S.U.V. to nab a girl last night,” Jody said.

That was enough for you and the boys to pack your bags. 

****

Both Sam and Dean pulled Jody in for a hug after pulling in to the parking lot of Casey’s Great Plains Diner.

You stood back awkwardly while they made their hello’s. You’d been with the boys for what seemed like forever but every time they met up with an old friend, you were reminded that they’d had an entire life before you. 

A life that you hadn’t been a part of. 

The kind of life that you wanted.

“Sheriff. Laying off the blind dates, I hope,” Dean said with a smirk as he stepped back beside you.

“Yeah. You bite your tongue, boy,” Jody said. Her eyes dropped from Dean to you. She smiled and held her hand out. “You must be the Y/N I heard about over the phone.”

You smiled back, relieved that she seemed so friendly, and shook her hand. “Uh, yeah, I’m …” you trailed off and looked over your shoulder at Sam and Dean.

Usually one of them would introduce you as their wife or partner but from what you could gather, Jody was a good friend. So what were you meant to tell her?

Dean stepped forward, giving Jody a friendly smile and letting his hand rest on your shoulder. “Y/N here is, uh, she’s a hunter, like us.”

Your insides deflated at those words but you tried your best not to look upset that he’d only introduced you as that.

Sam cleared his throat and gave Dean a pointed look. You could see that Jody knew something was up.

“Right,” Dean said. “She’s also, uh …”

“She’s our wife,” Sam cut in with a hard look at Dean. 

Jody’s brows shut up to her hairline as she looked between the two of them. 

“Uh, okay,” she said, “lotta questions but … I don’t know what shocks me more, that you’re dating the same woman or that you actually found someone willing to date you.”

Sam and Dean rolled their eyes but you had to cough to hide your laugh. Jody didn’t miss it. 

She chuckled and held her hands up. “It’s not my place to judge. As long as you’re happy, I don’t have a problem.”

“Thank you,” you said with as much sincerity as you could muster.

Her smile softened and she gave you a single nod. 

Sam cleared his throat. “So?”

Jody kicked back into gear. “Right, uh,” she nodded to the other end of the parking lot to where a janitor was sweeping up glass in the middle of a crime scene, “car was right over there, ass over teakettle. Now, normally, if somebody would tell me that one guy lifted an S.U.V., I'd tell him to take a flying leap, but after what I've seen ...”

Sam chuffed as Jody handed the three of you a file each. “Nothing's impossible.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And this matches up with the other missing how?” Dean said as he glanced over the three other missing persons case files. 

“Well, four abductions, strong evidence left at every scene -- literally.”

“So, first vic was a pastor?” you said, looking down at your own file.

“Yeah. Door of his study was punched in. And then, the next two -- an engaged couple.”

“Locked bedroom window was ripped open.”

“Mm-hmm. And then we have our waitress here with the topsy-turvy ride.”

“Any other connection among them?” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Jody said, a little hesitantly. “They were all members of Good Faith church here. My, uh, my church group back in Sioux Falls was in a tizzy over it.” Dean scoffed. “What?”

“I didn't peg you for churchy,” he said.

Jody smiled and crossed her arms. “Yeah. You know ... choking on the ladies' room floor 'cause of witchcraft kind of makes a higher power seem relevant.”

“Jody, are you sure you're, uh, up to jump back in the fray?”

She pressed her lips together and gave him a firm nod. “This wackadoo stuff keeps coming. More I know, better armed I'll be.”

Your lips curled up in a smile. “Okay, so, we have, uh, missing church folk and super strength. Maybe angels harvesting vessels? Could be a Buddy Boyle type thing.”

“Wh-- angels?” Jody said as she gave you a shocked look. “You're joking.”

“Don't get your pants on fire,” Dean said. “They suck.”

“You said there was a witness,” Sam said.

“Yeah, well ... more or less.”

****

The witness had been a homeless man named Slim Jim who the victim – Honor – had taken meatloaves too frequently. He’d seen the person lift the truck but had been too far away to ID them. All he’d been able to see properly was a blue, flame-like light (which ruled out angels) and then Honor was gone. 

Dean had sent Slim on his way with some cash and a smile before suggesting that the next step be to head to the church. 

Of course, you’d been hard against stepping foot inside any church but you’d been outnumbered. So, now you sat between Sam and Dean in front of a woman far too chirpy for her own good, in the middle of a church far too grand to be sending its profits to charity like the brochure said.

“We hope you enjoyed the tour,” the woman – Bonnie – said. “Any questions before we get you three registered?”

“Uh, yeah, look, um, Ms. Futchko –” Sam started.

“Oh, please... Bonnie will do just fine,” she said with a smile that raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Bonnie. Okay, um, we ... love the church. We do. But ... well, we've heard that a few members have gone missing, and, to be honest ... that kind of scares us.”

Bonnie’s smile faltered when you and Dean nodded in agreement but she drew in a deep breath and slipped it back into place. 

“Let me assure you,” she said, “with our increased security, Good Faith has never been safer. And those people who have gone missing, well, they are front and centre in our prayers.”

“What a relief,” you said, sarcasm ripe in your voice. You tried not to yelp when Dean kicked you in the shin.

“Now, you must have been, uh, close to them,” Dean said, drawing Bonnie’s attention away from you.

Bonnie gave him a proud smile. “Well, we do share the A.P.U. bond.”

“The A.P.U.?”

Bonnie leaned forward over her desk as though she were sharing a secret. “Our chastity group ... Abstinence Purifies Us."

You gave Dean a hard look.

“Oh. W-wow,” Sam said. “You mind if we sit in on that, maybe see if it's for us?”

Bonnie sat back and gave him an apologetic smile. You were starting to wonder if she had a smile for every occasion. “I'm afraid it's members only. I'm sorry, but it can get pretty personal.”

“Then count us in.”

Sam had less luck holding in his yelp when you kicked him in the shin.

Bonnie didn’t seem to notice, however. You didn’t blame her. If you were in her position, you’d hardly believe that two guys like Sam and Dean would be willing to take on the chastity vow. 

“Well. I'll be a squirrel in a skirt,” she said, all but vibrating with excitement. “I'll be back in a jiff with the papers.”

The moment she left the room, you turned to Sam. “A chastity group?”

“Y/N, listen,” Sam said, “if all the members were in A.P.U. then maybe whatever took them is stalking virgins.”

You growled in frustration. “You are not about to sign us up to a chastity group after what you did to me the other night. You are going to hell, Sam Winchester.”

Sam rolled his eyes and looked to Dean for help.

“That Slim guy said he thought he saw fire,” Dean said. “So, what are you thinking, dragons?”

You sighed and fell back into your chair when Sam agreed. 

“Alright-y,” Bonnie said as she walked back into the room with three forms on clipboards with pens. She handed one to each of you and sat back at her desk. “You can just sign there, and your purification can begin.”

Sam looked down at his form. You shook your head as you read yours and Dean tried sneaking a look at it as though he thought he must have the wrong form. He didn’t seem all that happy when he realised he didn’t.

“Purity pledge?” Sam said.

Bonnie nodded. “It's a commitment to your virginity.” 

You didn’t mean to but you laughed. “I’m sorry,” you said when Bonnie gave you a sharp look. “I don't think we can really un-ring that bell. You know what I mean?”

She had the nerve to look taken aback, as though it were unusual to come across grown adults that weren’t virgins. If only she knew.

“Oh. I see,” she said. “Well ... if you just ask for God's forgiveness for your sins and make a new vow of chastity, well, then, you'll be born again as a virgin in his eyes.”

You gave her an amused look. “So, you just hit the virginity do-over button, and all is good with the man upstairs?”

Bonnie gave Sam and Dean shocked looks as though your behaviour was somehow their fault. “It's not a button. And ... this isn't just a piece of paper. I mean, this is your clean slate, your chance to be a virgin until marriage.”

“Well, you had me at ‘clean slate’,” Dean said with a grin. “Let's do this.”

Sam and Dean signed their pledges before handing them to Bonnie and looking at you. You gave them both a helpless look before letting out a sigh and signing the pledge. 

“Congratulations,” Bonnie said with a smile. “You are all virgins.”

****

You sat between Sam and Dean, the three of you in a circle of virgins. There were some choice jokes in there somewhere, and just when you’d decided you were going to have a little bit of fun with it, you caught sight of Suzy.

She was blonde, beautiful and busty, and you knew you’d seen her somewhere before. You’d bet your life on it. 

“Good afternoon, everyone,” she said as she looked around the circle. “I'm Suzy. I thought we'd begin with a silent prayer for our missing friends.”

Everyone ducked their heads in prayer except you. You were too busy still trying to place Suzie’s face.

Sam cleared his throat and you gave him a sheepish smile before ducking your head. 

“Amen,” Suzie said just as you closed your eyes. “Now, does anyone have anything that they would like to share?”

You lifted your head and glanced around. A red-headed woman stood holding a piece of paper. 

“I wrote a new piece of verse,” she said. “It's called ‘Sex is a racket, and God's ball is in your court’.”

You gave Sam a look that said ‘if this doesn’t pan out, you’re dead’. 

“And we would love to hear that, Tammy – later,” Suzy said. “Why don't we hear from our new friends? Sam, what brought you here to reclaim your virginity?”

He stiffened and you had to stifle your smile as Dean leaned forward and gave him an interested look.

“Well,” Sam started reluctantly, “I guess because most of the women I've ... ever ... had relations with, uh ... it ... hasn't ended well.”

Dean chuckled. “He ain't lying. Shoulda seen the last one. Fire cracker. He couldn’t handle her. Hell, I had trouble wrangling the fox.”

You and Sam gave him hard looks, knowing full well he was talking about you.

Suzy frowned at Dean’s outburst but gave Sam a sympathetic smile. “Thank you for being here, Sam. Stay strong. Stay pure.”

You jumped when all the women chanted ‘stay strong, stay pure,’ as well.

Suzy looked at you next and you swallowed. “And you, Y/N? What set you on the path away from sin?”

“Oh, boy,” you mumbled under your breath.

Dean leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Why don’t you tell them what we did in the car last night? That was sinful enough to send you celibate.”

Suzy cleared her throat and gave Dean a sharp look. He gave her an apologetic smile and leaned back.

When she motioned for you to go on you cleared your throat and wiped the palms of your hands on your thighs. 

“Uh, hard to say, exactly,” you said as you glanced around the circle. “I mean, sex has always felt -- I don't know -- good, you know?” You smiled to yourself. “I mean, really, really good.” The smile fell from your face when you looked up and realised who you were talking to. “Uh ... but, uh ... you know, there’s bad sides to it too. Who’s gonna sleep in the wet spot? Will I get a UTI and have to live off Cranberry juice for the next week? Then there’s the next morning. You know, you’re sore. You’ve got some bruises. And your ass is just … covered in welts.” You chuckled. “And – and your neck is covered in bites and hickies ‘cause he got excited and – and so rough with just … lustful need.” You cleared your throat and gave everyone a smile. “But, you know, when you get down to it, what's the big deal, right? I mean, sure, there's the touching and the feeling all of each other, his hands everywhere, tracing every inch of my body, the two of us moving together, pressing and pulling ... grinding.” The women began shifting in their seats. Sam was crossing his legs to try and hide that he was adjusting his jeans. Dean sat there staring at you, mouth hanging open. “Then you hit that sweet spot, and everything just builds and builds and builds until it all just ...”

Sam cleared his throat and you looked up just as Tammy crushed her written verse between her hands. You looked around and noticed everyone was shifting in their seats and had tight grips on the sides of their chairs. 

“Yeah. Uh ...” You cleared your throat. “But the whole thing was just a little too, uh ... sticky. So, uh, I got my ‘V’ card back.” You slapped your thigh and grinned. “The end.”

You looked at the brothers but neither of them could look you in the eye. Their jeans were feeling far too tight and suddenly they couldn’t care less about the case. 

“I’m married to a damn nympho,” Dean mumbled as he tried to pull his jeans away from his crotch. 

After you’d been asked to share, the meeting didn’t go as smoothly as you were sure Suzy had hoped. Nevertheless, she soldiered on and at the end, people either flocked to the snacks that had been put out or helped Suzy move the chairs off to the side.

Sam cleared his throat as he and Dean crowded around you, Dean looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening in.

“So, um ... wee bit of an over-share, Y/N?” Sam said with a smile.

You smiled back. “I was purifying.” Dean chuffed. “And I don’t know what it is but something about my hatred for churches, my new-found virginity – and the fact that I soaked the panties of every virgin in this room – really gets me going.” 

Sam’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he tried to find the words to say. He wasn’t a stranger to your random bouts of friskiness but he wasn’t used to them happening right in the middle of working a case. At a chastity group in the middle of a church no less. 

Dean couldn’t seem to wipe the proud grin off his face. 

You caught a glimpse of Suzy across the room as she said her goodbyes to one of the women and suddenly – like a bag of bricks – it hit you.

“Holy shit,” you breathed. 

“What?” Dean said as he and Sam looked over at Suzy.

“I know who she is,” you said. 

Sam gave you a confused frown. “Y-Yeah … that’s Suzy.”

You shook your head, unable to take your eyes off of her. “Her name is definitely not Suzy,” you laughed. “She’s only the most amazing porn star to ever grace the screen of my laptop. Carmelita.”

“Oh, no,” Dean groaned.

“Oh, yes,” you laughed. “I’m gonna go say ‘hi’.”

“No, baby – dammit.”

Sam frowned. “What’s the problem, Dean?”

Dean pressed his lips together, watching you like a hawk as you all but skipped over to Suzy. “Carmelita isn’t just some porn star Y/N watches every now and then. She’s her favourite.”

Sam shrugged. “So?”

“So … what the hell do you think is gonna happen, Sam? She’s horny as hell and has just met her favourite porn star.”

Sam scoffed. “Dean, come on. I know you get jealous sometimes – hell, I do too – but Y/N is never going to actually cheat on us. It’s just not something she’d ever dream of doing.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about,” Dean growled with a pointed look at Suzy.

Sam chuckled. “Really, Dean? She’s the chastity counsellor. Trust me, she’s not trying to hit that.”

“Really?” Dean said. 

He gripped his brother’s jaw in one hand and forced his face to look in your direction. You seemed innocently star struck but Suzy, on the other hand, was twirling her hair around her fingers and looking up through her lashes at you with a sultry smile. 

Sam had never had much luck flirting with women but even he knew Suzy was putting the moves on.

“See?” Dean growled as he let his hand drop. “Y/N doesn’t even have to do anything. She’s literally a chick magnet. She’s worse than me, Sam.”

“I can’t believe it,” Sam said in awe. “She’s about to pull a chastity counsellor and she doesn’t even know it.”

“Yeah. If Carmelita over there – Y/N’s ultimate lesbian wet dream – decides she wants a piece of our girl, how easy do you think it’ll be for her to turn her down.”

Sam frowned, though he didn’t look at all confident when he said, “She’ll be fine.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Have you already forgotten the stripper incident, Sam? And when Charlie said she’d ‘totally bang her’? When it comes to women, Y/N’s self-control is about as good as mine when I was single and ready to mingle.”

Sam swallowed. “Oh, god. You’re right. Uh …” 

He turned when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Bonnie smiled up at him. 

“Hey,” she said. 

Sam forced out a smile for her. “Hey, Bonnie.” He turned back to Dean and growled under his breath, “Do not take your eyes off Y/N.”

“Already on it,” Dean replied as he moved to the buffet which happened to be right by you and Suzy. 

Meanwhile, you were all but vibrating with nervous excitement and energy as you spoke with Suzy. She was so close to you. Close enough that you could smell her flowery perfume. It was intoxicating and the longer she smiled at you, the more the world around you seemed to drown out until your attention had completely zeroed in on her. 

“Listen, uh, Suzy, I've seen a lot of awful things, stuff of nightmares, okay?” you said. “But you -- you're the good dreams.” 

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she smiled at you. Your eyes dropped to her mouth and all you could envision was having it between your thighs. 

“And nobody in Hartford knows?” you murmured as the two of you shifted closer together in your little corner. 

She chuckled. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Oh, yeah, hey, I used to be a porn star. Let's pray’?”

You smiled. “Well ... they do not appreciate you. I mean ... the things you can do -- the scene with the tacos.”

Her smile stretched to a grin as she took a step closer. She was centre metres away from brushing against you. “Yeah?”

“Made me want to join a mariachi band just to be near you.”

She wet her lips and gave you and enticing look as her eyes trailed down your body and back up to your face. “Well, you are now.”

The smile fell from your face as you suddenly comprehended what she was saying. “I am, aren't I?”

She lifted a finger and trailed it over the buttons of your shirt, dipping it down between your breasts and onto your belly. “You're not like ... the other people in town, are you? You're kind of a ... a bad girl.”

“Sí,” you breathed.

She glanced over her shoulder briefly to make sure none of the other women were watching, then she leaned in close to your ear and explicitly stated every single thing she would do to you if you went back to her place with her just then.

If you were sitting on a vinyl chair, you would have slid right off. You could feel the dampness of your underwear against your skin. 

“Oh, god,” you moaned when her tongue snaked out against your earlobe after she’d finished speaking. 

Staring over her shoulder, you caught a glimpse of Sam’s back as he hunched over and talked to Bonnie. 

You groaned as you grabbed Suzy’s shoulders and pushed her back at arm’s length. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this but … no.” You dropped your hands and gave her the haughtiest look you could muster. “I take my vow of chastity very seriously, Suzy. I refuse the advances of your magical vagina.”

You scurried off before she got a chance to process any of the crap that just fell from your mouth. Thankfully, you bumped into Dean at the buffet. 

“Thank, god. Dean, please, you have to help,” you said as you grabbed his arm.

He gave you a concerned look. He’d been watching you talk to Suzy this entire time but he didn’t think she’d done anything that serious – of course, he hadn’t actually heard what she’d said.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“It’s Carmelita. I swear, the devil sent her to test me.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

“I need you to fuck me, Dean. Right now.”

He gave you an incredulous look. “Right now? We’re in the middle of –”

“You don’t understand,” you growled as you grabbed the lapels of his jacket and yanked him down to your level. “I just turned down the hottest woman I have ever seen for you and Sam. And she was willing to do some of the nastiest shit I’ve ever heard of. So, you will take me to the nearest altar. You will bend me over it. And you will fuck me against it.”

Dean’s mouth had been hanging open in shock the entire time. When he didn’t do anything you shook him and growled, “Do you understand?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Of course I do. I do … I understand,” he said quickly, his voice high. 

You let him go and he stumbled back. “Great. I’ll tell Sam to leave without us.”

****

Dean grunted as you pushed him up against the first altar you found. It was in a room probably used for smaller church services.

He braced his hands on the altar behind him as you dropped straight to your knees and worked on his jeans. Once they were open, you yanked them down over his ass and took him into your mouth with a moan and as much enthusiasm as you imagined he must feel with his face between your thighs.

He moaned and let his head fall back as you swallowed him down your throat, your tongue rubbing against the underside of his shaft before swirling around the head. 

Your hands went to his hips, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to pull him closer with every deep throat. 

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned as he moved his hand up to tighten in your hair. 

You hummed around him and he bucked his hips forward with a growl. As you took him deep down your throat again, you furrowed your brows and looked up at him. 

He moaned when his eyes locked with yours. You kept your mouth where it was until you had to pull back off him and gasp for air. Strings of saliva stretched from his tip to your lips. 

“God,” he groaned. “How’d you get so fucking good with that mouth of yours?”

You grinned up at him wiggling on your knees in excitement at his praise. “Practise. I always give Sammy head when you go in to pay for gas and snacks.”

He raised his brows and smirked down at you. “Do you now?”

You nodded and bit your bottom lip. “Mhmm. I always try and make him cum before you come back.”

“And do you?”

You grinned and let out a giggle as you moved forward and nipped at his hip. He chuckled at your playfulness – taking it as an affirmative – as he smoothed your hair back off your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. 

“You ... are so … you’re just so beautiful to me.”

You felt yourself melt at his words and all you could think to do in response was take him back into your mouth and watch his face as you bobbed your head over him. 

He moaned as he looked down at you. His brows furrowed and his mouth fell open. He cupped your jaw in his hands, not guiding you, just holding your face up so you wouldn’t look away. 

“That’s it, baby girl. Just like that,” he moaned. “Keep looking at me.”

You took him down your throat again, brows furrowing as you tried to hold him there. He let out a sound that was half-growl, half-helpless moan as you swallowed and gagged around him. 

You pulled back with another gasp and smiled up at him, proud of your work. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, baby. You always do so good.”

You gave him a hopeful look and bit your bottom lip as you wiggled on your knees again. 

You, Sam and Dean had quickly learnt that praise was such a huge thing for all of you. Far bigger than any of you had realised. You all thrived off it. Sam needed it after bad hunts. Dean needed it when he had to make the tough choices. Sometimes he needed it during sex. That’s when you needed it the most. During these intimate moments. When you allowed yourself to be completely vulnerable to them – that’s when you needed the most praise and reassurance. 

“Come up here,” he said softly as he tucked his hands under your arms and helped lift you to your feet. It shocked you sometimes just how strong the boys were. 

He pulled you against him in a passionate kiss that had your toes curling and your head spinning. You made quick work of your shorts as his tongue slid across yours. They fell to the ground and you kicked them to the side.

You leaned into his body to steady yourself as you pushed up on the tips of your toes. He leaned back against the altar to take your weight more easily and moaned when you took him in your hand and guided him through your folds. 

“Can you feel how wet I am?” you said against his mouth as you thrust yourself over the top of his length. 

He tried to answer but could only get out another breathy moan. You pulled back enough to look at him and found his brows furrowed and his lips parted. 

His eyes stayed locked with yours as you lifted the hand that wasn’t holding him between your legs. You cupped the back of his neck and played your fingers through his short hair. 

“You did this to me, Dean,” you breathed. “You always make me feel this good. Every time you touch me. Every time you call me your baby. You make me feel this way. And when you give me those secretive smiles ‘cause Sammy said something stupid and didn’t realise it.” You smiled as you remembered he’d done that on the car ride over. “It makes me so happy. You’re so incredible, Dean. And every day you do something that makes me fall in love with you all over again.”

He kissed you then. And it was desperate and messy. And he could hardly breath because he was silently crying and his nose was getting stuffy. He didn’t care though. He would   
gladly suffocate if it meant he never had to stop kissing you.

“I don’t want to bend you over the altar and fuck you,” he mumbled against your mouth. He kissed you again. “I want to watch your face while I make love to you.”

He didn’t wait for your answer – he knew he didn’t need to – he just hoisted you up and turned to sit you on the altar. 

He kissed you again as he thrust into you. You let out a high pitched gasp against his mouth as he suddenly filled you.

“I love that sound,” he said as he pulled back enough to watch your face. His hands gripped your hips as he began thrusting. “Every time you make it … it ruins me.”

Your arms went around his neck and you pressed your body against his as you thrust your hips against him. 

“Touch me, Dean. Please,” you whined. 

“You don’t even have to ask.”

Your head fell back and you let out a long moan the moment his fingers rubbed against your clit. Dean kept his eyes on your face. He could feel himself tightening at the sheer   
look of bliss in your eyes. 

A smile spread across your lips when you looked at him again and it made him feel things that he’d never thought he’d get a chance to feel. 

“You’re too good for me,” he said. 

The words were torn from his throat. He knew you didn’t hear them because before he’d even made it half-way through the sentence you fell over the edge.

That was okay. You didn’t need to hear him say it. He just needed to say it out loud. Needed to remind himself. Needed it to be out there in the universe. So everyone knew that he knew you were too good for him. You were more than he had ever asked for. More than he had ever deserved.

He’d spent so many years hating God but now he was starting to wonder if God had done him a mercy and made you fall in love with Dean.

You held him as he finished inside you. And you held him when he sobbed against your shoulder, squeezing you tight enough to bruise your ribs. 

He was mumbling over and over again. Asking himself – God, even – what he’d done to deserve you. If it was just some joke and you were going to be yanked away from him when he least expected it. 

All you could hear was incomprehensible mumbling. You didn’t know why he was so upset. All you knew was that he needed you, no questions asked. 

And so you held him long after his tears had dried. 

****

Jody smiled and greeted Sam as he walked into the hotel room. He returned the pleasantries and she frowned when she saw that he was alone.

“Where are the other two?”

Sam chuffed and scratched the back of his head as he approached Jody. She was sitting at the table in front of her laptop.

“Uh … well, Y/N got a little frisky during her chastity meeting and Dean hasn’t figured out how to tell her ‘no’,” he said.

Jody grinned. “Seriously? You’re gonna stand there and act like you would’ve said no?” He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to argue. “Don’t even try it, pal,” she chuckled. “I’ve seen your wife. I wouldn’t be able to say no to her either.”

Sam chuffed. “Don’t tell her that. She’ll try and take you up on that offer and then you’ll have Dean to deal with.”

Jody raised her brows. “Not you?” Sam shrugged and leaned against the desk. “What? You don’t have a problem with her being with other women while she’s with you? My, my, things really have changed since I last saw you.”

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile at Jody’s surprise. “I didn’t say I would be okay with. I mean … I don’t know. There was a time when I wouldn’t have been. She doesn’t really flirt with guys but I know I would get jealous if she did. But with women …” He shrugged again. “She flirts with them all the time, and I don’t know if I’m used to it, or I’m secure in our relationship, or … something else. Whatever it is … I’m not saying I want her to sleep with other women, ‘cause that would definitely bother me. I just don’t mind if she flirts and … I don’t know, gets a little handsy?”

“Do you want to have a threesome with her and another woman? Or watch her with another woman?” Jody said as though she were only asking the weather. 

Sam gave her an incredulous look. “What? No. I would be way to jealous if I actually saw them together.”

Jody shrugged. “Okay. Then it’s probably because you trust her enough not to take it any further. You don’t mind her having a little fun because you know that, at the end of the day, she’s coming home to you. Simple as that.”

Sam nodded as he thought about it. “Do you think, maybe, Dean doesn’t trust her? I mean, he gets so … possessive. He even managed to get me worked up today over something that … I just normally wouldn’t worry about.”

Jody shrugged. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me? I haven’t exactly seen you guys with her all that much.”

He dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. “No … he … he trusts her. He does. I just think … I think sometimes he gets insecure. He thinks he’s not good enough for her. That, maybe one day, she’ll figure that out.”

Jody threw her hands up and let them fall back into her lap. “Just answered your own question.” Sam chuffed. “So, apart from your wife with the crazy libido, how was church?”

Sam smiled, knowing that Jody had no idea just how true her words were. “Well, it turned into confessional. Apparently, two of our vics, Honor and Pastor Fred, did the dirty.”

Jody sat up a little straighter at that revelation and pulled a police statement towards her. “Oh, well. They're not the only ones. Barb Blanton, our missing bride to be – her mom said she heard Barb and her fiancé in Barb's bedroom.”

Sam raised his brows. “Going at it?”

“Well, she said she heard sex noises, then Barb crying, then Neil telling Barb it didn't count because it was under 30 seconds.”

Sam chuckled. He could only imagine what kind of comments you would have made if you were there. Something along the lines of ‘I’ll go in there and show him how it’s done’, he was sure. Then Dean would give you a proud smile and Sam would roll his eyes. 

“And then,” Jody continued, “two hours later, she heard a smash and saw a flash of light under the door.”

“Blue light?”

Jody nodded. “You know, I'm thinking whatever this thing is, it's not going after virgins, even born-again virgins.”

“It's taking virgins who break their chastity vow,” Sam said in agreement. “So dragons are off the list.”

Jody’s brows shot up in shock. “I'm sor-- dragons? Those are a thing?”

Sam sighed. “Yeah. Too many things are things.”

He shrugged out of his coat jacket and sat down across from Jody with his own laptop. They sat in comfortable silence for a short while but then Sam started to get antsy when he didn’t hear anything from either you or Dean. 

After leaving Dean a voicemail, he tried your cell and sighed when he hit voicemail again.

“Come on, baby. Can one of you call me?” he said.

Jody gave him a motherly look as he hung up.

“You know,” she said, “for being born again today, you sure look like crap.”

Sam chuffed and fell back in his chair. Then he frowned and looked up at her. “Wait a second. Did you ... get –”

“Born again?” She chuckled. “Oh, Sam. I don't make promises I can't keep. It's just ...” She shrugged. “I enjoy church. I mean, after ... after Bobby. Crowley. I needed something that made sense to me -- you know, comfort, I guess.”

Sam pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yeah, I guess we're all looking for that.”

Jody smiled and gave him a knowing look. “Except those that got it.”

Sam gave her a puzzled look.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on. You, Y/N and Dean? That's something special, don't you think?”

He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Of course. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It is. It’s just …”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I – I don’t know how much longer it’s gonna last.” Jody frowned. “We … me and Dean – we did something we probably shouldn’t have. Dean’s in denial but … it’s only a matter of time before Y/N finds out. And when she does …”

Jody dragged her bottom lip between her teeth as she contemplated what he said. “Do you regret what you did? Wish you could take it back?”

“No,” Sam said without thought. “Never. Given another chance … I’d probably do it again. So would Dean.”

“Well, then … I think she’ll understand. She seems reasonable.”

Sam gave her a half-hearted smile but despite Jody’s attempts at reassurance, he could only wonder whether or not she’d say the same if she knew what he and Dean had done.

****

You woke up on dirty concrete. Your head was killing you and you felt like you’d just been thrown across the room. You could feel a body behind you but no movement. For your own sanity, you assumed it was just an unconscious Dean as you tried to assess the room you were in. 

You were underground, that much you could tell. There was only one vent but there didn’t appear to be any sources of food or water. It was dark, the only source of light came from a lantern in a trembling girl’s hand. If you remembered her picture correctly, it was Honor. 

The room was big – even had a table with some chairs, and there were bunkbeds against the far wall. 

With no immediate threat, you sat up with a groan. Honor shuffled back away from you along with two other people behind her. It looked like they were Neil and Barb – two of the missing vics. You couldn’t see the pastor anywhere so you assumed the worst and finally turned around to look at Dean.

The first thing you saw was his chest rise and fall as he breathed. Your shoulders slumped in relief. He was just passed out.

You placed a hand on Dean’s chest and looked up at the three vics.

“Where are we?” you said.

Neil stepped forward and looked down at Dean. “Hell,” he murmured.

Great. You weren’t getting any help from then. 

You leaned forward to cup Dean’s face in your hand whilst using the other one to shake him.

“Hey. Dean. Come on. Dean.”

He jerked awake, propping himself up on his elbows automatically as though he were about to leap to his feet but he relaxed when he saw you safe and sound.

“What’s going on?” he grumbled as he gingerly touched the back of his head. 

“Looks like we found our monster’s hidey hole. What do you remember?”

Dean furrowed his brows and squeezed his eyes shut briefly as he tried to remember. “Uh, a woman and then … blue fire.” He opened his eyes and looked up at you. “You?”

“Much of the same.” You lowered your voice so the others wouldn’t hear what you said next. “And the text you got from Sam. It’s not a dragon, right?” Dean nodded and you glanced around again as you helped him to his feet. “From what I can gather, we’re underground. One air vent. No food or water but there are beds so she’s expecting us to stay down here a while.”

Dean grunted and cupped your face in his hands as he eyes roamed down your body. “Are you hurt?”

You shrugged. “Probably as banged up as you are. Nothing serious.”

He nodded. “Good.” He gave the room a quick glance but ultimately trusted the intel you’d given him. He barely glanced at the vics before he caught sight of the ladder that the two of you had been dropped near. He looked up to find a trap door at the top of it.

“You been up there yet?” he said to you. 

“We tried. There's no escape,” Neil said as he stepped forward. 

There was something about him you didn’t like. You couldn’t put your finger on it, though, so you ignored him. 

“No,” you said. “I just looked around and woke you up.”

Dean went up the ladder and began trying to force the trap door open with his shoulders.

“Are we gonna run out of air?” Honor said as she took a tentative step towards you.

You opened her mouth to reassure her but Neil cut in, gesturing towards the vent. “I don't think so. Somebody wants us to die nice and slow.”

You gave the man a hard look. He was definitely going to be a problem for you. 

“And then it's gonna take us,” Barb said, “just like it took Pastor Fred.”

Dean, who’d been climbing back down the ladder, dropped to the ground and looked at her. “What took him?”

“We couldn't see, exactly,” Honor said. “It -- It was so bright. I-It was like it was on fire.”

You sighed and began walking the room to see if there was something you missed from your first glance. Dean went back up the ladder to keep trying with the trap door. 

By the time you made the rounds, he’d given up and dropped to the floor again. 

“Anything?” he said. 

You shook your head. “You?”

“It’s bolted shut.” He kept his voice low as he said it, not wanting to upset any of the vics and cause trouble. “I don’t think we’re getting out through there until someone unlocks it.”

You nodded. “Okay. Then we need a different plan.”

“Like what?”

“Uh, phones. She took mine, which means she probably took yours and everyone else’s, but –”

“But, I always carry a spare,” he finished as he undid the inner hidden pocket of his jacket and pulled out his back-up cell. “Good girl.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before walking around the room to try and find reception. 

****

Sam was sick with worry when he and Jody got back to the motel. After you and Dean had been gone for over an hour with no contact, he assumed the worst and went back to the church to look for you. 

When he found your shorts discarded by an altar, he knew then that the two of you had been taken. Dean was too possessive to let you be walking around without shorts on underneath the flannels you wore, even if they did hit you mid-thigh (or just above your knees if you were wearing Sam’s).

If that hadn’t been enough, a priest had gushed and gotten all red when he talked about hearing sex noises before he saw a flash of blue light a few minutes later.

The moment he got back to the motel, he got straight back into research with Jody. Trying his best to find anything that could lead him to you and Dean. 

The best they could find was lore on a Roman Goddess of Hearth. Her name was Vesta and she fit the bill well enough for Sam to look for a way to kill her. 

Whilst Jody did that, he got a call from Dean’s backup cell. He’d never been so relieved to hear his brother’s voice. Even if it was static-y and kept dropping out. In fact, the only thing he’d managed to get from the phone call before it dropped out completely was a train whistle. 

That was all he’d needed. 

****

Dean growled in frustration when the call cut out. He stepped back from the vent and looked to where you were leaning against a structural beam closest to him.

“Call cut out,” he said. “I don’t think he got anything.”

You gave him a reassuring smile and he went to you the moment you did, knowing you were about to offer him some sort of comfort.

“Sammy’s a smart man, Dean. Knowing him, he probably got more from that call than you know. Worst come to worst, we’ll ambush the bitch next time she comes down. We’re not staying down here, Dean. I know it.”

He gave you a small smile and cupped your face in his hand. “How do you always know just what to say?” he murmured. 

You smiled and twisted your fingers in the front of his shirt so you could pull him down for a kiss. You stopped when you heard Barb whispering a little too loudly.

“Don't, Neil. Please, don't.”

You frowned as Neil tried to shush her. 

“Don't what, Neil?” you growled.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Just mind your beeswax, sweetheart.”

You clenched your teeth and pushed off the beam towards him but Dean already brushed past you and got right up in his face.

“Hey. Hey! You watch what you say to my wife. Now, listen, we're all stuck down here together. So, you got something to say, you say it.”

He sighed. “Okay, look, whatever that fireball thing was, it's taking the weakest, and I am not gonna be next. So, the way I see it, her leg's busted anyway.” He motioned towards Honor where she sat nursing the ankle she’d hurt. “We serve her up. It could buy us some time.”

“Screw you, Neil,” Honor snapped.

With a snarl, you brushed past Dean, twisted a fist in the front of Neil’s shirt and slammed him up against the wall. He gave you a look of shock when his head bounced off the brick.

In your experience, the church-y types weren’t used to women who fought back.

“Busted leg?” you growled in his face. “Try a sprained ankle, okay? Nobody's serving anybody up!”

He gave you a haughty look when he recovered from his initial surprise. “We are under the gallows, all of us. Give it Honor. It might save the rest of our necks, unless you have a better plan.”

You gave him a smile that was far from polite. “Yeah. I do. I’m gonna give her you.”

“Baby,” Dean warned. Most of the time he let you go but there were the occasions where he knew he had to reel you in before you went too far. 

You glanced at him then back at Neil. Finally, the man looked terrified of you. 

“What, you don't like that idea?” you snapped. “Then shut up!” 

You pushed away from him in disgust and turned you back on him to walk away and cool down. You caught sight of Honor as you did, she gave you a thankful smile. You tried to return it but didn’t think you were so successful with the anger still boiling your blood. She didn’t seem to mind. 

****

Oak stained in virgin blood. That had been the weapon Sam and Jody had to track down after they narrowed down the location to a secluded farm. 

Unfortunately, the only virgin the two of them could find was back at the church. Tammy. She hadn’t been pleased about offering up her blood – something about pagan rituals and devil worshippers. She soon shut her mouth when Jody punched her in the nose and took the blood that spurted out. 

The farm turned out to be the place you, Dean and the other vics were being kept. Sam had found the trap door and heard you yell back when he called down to the two of you.

You’d gone straight up the ladder the moment you’d heard his voice, only to have your stomach drop in dread a moment later when there was commotion and he shouted in pain.

There was a crash and then silence from Sam. You could hear Jody grunting and taunting the one other person you could hear but all you cared about was that you couldn’t hear Sam anymore. 

You didn’t bother trying to push the trap door up with your shoulder. If Dean couldn’t do it, then you definitely couldn’t. Instead, you ran your hands along the seams and the underside of it. There had to be bolts that screwed the latch in place. 

When you found them – barely visible through the rust – you called down for a screwdriver of some sort. Honor came back with a pair of scissors – the handle wide enough to fit into the slits of the bolts and turn them.

You cut open your hands a few times but eventually you got the screws undone. The scissors fell to the ground. You braced yourself against the ladder and threw the entire weight of your body up against the door. 

It was so heavy that you only managed to knock it up enough to wedge your upper body through. You grunted as it pressed you to the ground and scraped along your back but you managed to pull yourself out. 

It fell shut behind you but the moment you stood and saw Jody strapped to a table with Bonnie (of all people) standing beside her with a raised stake, you knew you wouldn’t have time to pull it open again.

You charged Bonnie and hit her with everything you had as she brought the stake down towards Jody’s heart. You managed to knock her into the table so the stake went through Jody’s opposite shoulder but that was enough to keep her alive and distract Bonnie. 

The goddess turned with a snarl, pushing you off her. You stumbled back as her hands landed on your shoulders. 

She flung you back and you hit the ground with a grunt. You looked to your side and saw Sam, he was just coming to with a groan. 

Bonnie dropped to her knees in front of you. You had an odd moment where you were glad your flannel hadn’t been flying up and all over the place, then her finger lit up blue and she pressed it to your abdomen. 

You cried out and forced yourself up onto your elbows to fight her off but, before you could, she pushed to her feet and stumbled backwards as she stared down at you in horror and confusion. 

“What's wrong with you?” she said.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you looked up at her. “What?”

“Your liver. It's -- It's no good. Dear girl, you're all duct tape and safety pins inside. How are you alive?”

You were glad when Jody had managed to make it out of her restraints and drive the stake through Bonnie’s heart from behind. Because, if you were being honest, you were so shocked by Bonnie’s words that you didn’t think you would have recovered in time to protect yourself had she gone at you again.

When she dropped to the ground dead, Sam groaned and pushed himself up. He crawled the short way to your side and cupped your face in his hands.

“Y/N. Baby, are you okay?” he said.

You nodded and gave him a reassuring smile despite the terror rising up inside you. You helped each other to your feet and followed Jody to the trap door just as Dean managed to push it the entire way open.

He panted as he leaned back against the rim and looked up at the three of you. “What did I miss?”

****

When Jody left the motel, there was a flurry of smiles and thank you’s. Then the door shut behind her and you collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. 

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You couldn’t keep smiling when you were this scared. 

Sam and Dean had been packing their bags but stopped when they saw you just staring at the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

You swallowed. You tried to look at him but you couldn’t. You couldn’t look at him and say what you were about to say. If you did, you knew – you just knew – you would see in his eyes that you were right to be scared.

“What if there is something wrong with me?” you said. “Something...really wrong?”

“You're just crapped out, baby,” Dean said. “You need some rest.”

“No, it's more than that. I mean, Bonnie – Vesta, whatever – said I was practically dead inside.”

“Oh, and she's in the circle of trust now?” Dean growled. 

You looked up at him then. It was easy to face him when he was angry. You could pretend that he wasn’t covering his own fear and denial with anger. 

“Why would she lie?” you said.

Dean shook his head and flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip

“It's probably the trials, okay?” Sam said gently. “Probably some sort of a, you know, aftereffect. It's not like you're bouncing back from the flu here. I mean, you were glowing with – with trial juice.”

You sighed and shook your head as you dropped your eyes back down to the ground. “I don't know.”

“Well, what else would it be?” Dean snapped.

Sam said his name in warning but you were glad to take the bait and get angry. You needed the distraction.

“Why does it have to be something else?” you argued. “It's always something else. We're always scraping to find some other explanation when maybe it is ... just me.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N.”

“I'm a mess, Dean. You know it. I’ve always been messed up. And sometimes, I feel like maybe I'm never gonna actually be all right.”

“You will,” Sam said as he took a step towards you. “Alright? ‘Cause whatever it is, we'll figure it out.”

“Exactly,” Dean said.

You shook your head. “Or this is ... just the way I am.”

Sam gave you a miserable look and Dean closed his eyes in resignation and shook his head.

“I can't,” Dean said as he sank down on the edge of the bed across from you. “I can't let you put this on yourself. Listen to me. It's not you, Y/N.”

And just like that, your eyes flashed blue and your entire body straightened until you were stiff. 

Sam’s heart sank. He couldn’t do this anymore. He’d sagged with relief when Dean had given in and decided to finally tell you but now … if Ezekiel was making an appearance …

“I wouldn't do that, Dean,” Ezekiel said.

Dean’s face crumbled at the angel’s appearance. “She deserves to know,” he growled, his voice thick with sorrow. 

“Your mate is not ready. If she ejects me, she will not make it.”

“Damn it, Zeke! How much longer we got to keep playing this?”

“Not much longer. I promise you that.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. And Sam watched, sick to his stomach, as your eyes flashed again and your body slumped back down.

“What?” you said.

Dean gave you a guilty and exhausted look. “What?”

You looked at him with a slight frown. “What? What -- what's not me?”

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing. I just -- I-I meant that...if there is something wrong ... it's not your fault. We'll deal with it. But you got to have a little faith, baby.”

Dean stood and leaned over to press a kiss to your temple. Sam stood there and watched your face fall. Dean’s answer hadn’t been what you were hoping for. 

He watched you pick up your packed bag and leave. The moment the motel door shut behind you, Dean collapsed onto his bed let his head fall into his hands. 

Sam couldn’t even offer words of comfort. He was afraid to even open his mouth.


	39. Holy Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After catching wind of another angel case, Cas's sudden appearance drives Ezekiel into the path of Metatron. Only, the angel inhabiting you isn't who he's been saying he is. And you soon discover, that neither are you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, lord. Okay, guys. So ... I did a thing. I'm super proud of it but I hope it's not too confusing. Let me know what you guys think!!! I have been working so hard to plan this out and map out the next few series into this fic. I think it's going to come together really well and I'm just super proud of it :)

Dean’s hands wrung the steering wheel of his Impala. Sam had his head resting in his hand as he looked out the passenger window. Neither of them could look at you. Not with Ezekiel staring at them from the back-seat through the shadows of the night.

You’d caught wind of a case involving angels and the moment the three of you hit the road, Ezekiel was making appearances left, right and centre. 

“So, she's better?” Dean said. He chanced a glance at you in the rear-view mirror. A shiver raked his spine when he caught sight of your cold eyes. 

“Yes,” Ezekiel said. “Y/N is much improved. It shouldn't be much longer now.”

Sam sighed and dropped his hand from his head. “Okay, you know you said the same thing to us last week, right?”

“As I told you when we met – this will take time.”

Dean ground his teeth together in frustration. He just wanted you – minus the creepy angel. “Okay, well, go then. Heal. We'd like our wife back, please.”

There was silence a moment, then Ezekiel said, “I must say, I'm very uncomfortable with this whole trip. Investigating crimes involving angels – or anything involving angels – puts me, and therefore, Y/N, at risk.”

“Well, family business, Zeke. Okay? If we ignore this, Y/N's gonna think that something fishy's going on.”

Another pause. “Then I trust you will be discreet.”

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam straightened in his seat. “Wait,” Sam said, “I thought you said you can’t hear what goes on between the three of us? How do you even know about the case?”

“I said that I pick up a word here and there. I have better things to do with my time than eavesdrop, like heal your mate.”

Neither of the brothers could put their finger on it but it seemed there was a certain way he said ‘mate’. As though he were spitting it out like poison on his tongue. 

Before either of them could really dwell on it, however, your eyes flashed blue and your body reanimated to its normal self.

“— I was gonna say, it seems like it's getting really quiet out there, you know?” you said, picking up from the middle of your earlier sentence as you rested your arms on the back of the front seat. “Not a peep from the angels, even Buddy Boyle goes off the air and stops recruiting for them.”

Dean cleared his throat and Sam shifted in his seat until he could look at you. 

“Obviously calm before the storm,” Dean said. He’d gotten used to the quickly changing conversational pattern between you and Ezekiel. 

“Yeah, maybe,” you mumbled, unconvinced, as you chewed on your bottom lip. 

Suddenly, you notice something out the window and Sam watches as you stare at it in shock.

“What’s wrong?” he said. 

You frowned and looked back at him. “That sign said ‘Fort Collins, 50 miles’.”

“So?” Dean said.

“So, last time I looked, like, 12 seconds ago, uh, Fort Collins was a hundred miles.”

Sam swallowed as he shared a look with his brother.

“Well, hey, baby,” Dean started, “ever since that goddess got her hooks into you, you know —” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes in agitation. “No, it's more than Vesta! I mean, this kind of thing's been happening to me. Like – Like, there are chunks of time just … missing. Like there are times when I'm... not here.”

“Well,” Sam said, “like Dean’s said —”

“Yes, the trials,” you sighed as you fell back in your seat. “I know. I heard you. I heard you when you said it the last week and the week before that and the week before that.”

“Yeah, because ... damn straight the trials,” Dean growled. “They whacked you, baby. You're not up to warp speed yet, okay? But you will be.” He gave you a bright smile in the rear-view mirror. “Would I lie?”

No, he wouldn’t. Not after everything the three of you had been through. You knew he would never betray you like that.

****

It was day by the time the three of you had found a motel, gotten changed into suits and headed out to the roadhouse. The floor was littered with pools of blood and broken furniture but you were bubbling with excitement when you found Cas already at the scene playing at being an FBI agent. 

His face lit up when he saw you and he took a step forward. Though, when he saw Dean’s hard face over your head, he stopped in his tracks and let his smile dim down a little as he remembered what Dean had told him the last time they met. 

You itched to hug him but you knew it would seem odd to the local cops if you did. So instead, you smiled, nudged him in the arm and greeted, in a faux FBI-colleague voice, “Agent.”

He leaned towards you, looking pleased to be in on the game, and replied, “Agent.”

Sam was smiling too though it looked half-hearted and a little nervous. Dean, on the other hand, was scowling.

“Cas. What the hell are you doing?” he growled, cutting in on the fun you and the angel – now human you supposed – were having. 

Cas leaned forward slightly and whispered, “I still have that badge you gave me.”

“Yeah. Uh, what the hell are you doing?”

You gave Dean a hard look at his harshness when Cas looked taken aback. 

“The murders were all over the news,” Cas said. “I-I thought I might be of help.”

He looked to you as though he made the wrong decision. You gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand in yours, missing the tick in Dean’s jaw and the way Sam dragged his bottom lip through his teeth as you did so. 

“Yeah, but Cas, you know that this is an angel situation, right?” you said. “I mean, you left that night because angels were on your ass.”

He gave you a confused look but Dean interjected with, “Yeah, and you were living the life, you know? Early retirement, working your way up the Gas-n-Sip ladder.”

Cas glanced between the two of you again before saying, “If angels are slaughtering one another, I have to do what I can to help. It is a risk we should be willing to take. Don't you think?” You shrugged in agreement and gave Dean a look that told him to behave. “Hey. Cas is back in town.”

“Seriously,” Dean said, “did you –” he looked at Sam, “did he just say that?”

Sam smiled and you all but giggled as you hugged Cas’s arm to your body. Cas leaned into you but stopped when he saw Dean watching him.

He cleared his throat and pulled away from you under the guise of showing you the crime scene photos. The photos showed that, before the four of you got there, the ground had been covered with dead biker bodies.

They must have been the angels that were killed. 

“These angels,” Cas said, “they were butchered. Much more violence than was required.”

“Definitely took more than one or two killers to pull this off,” Sam said as he looked over your shoulder at the photos. 

“Hit squad? Bartholomew's people?” Dean said.

“Well,” you said, “Bartholomew has a faction we know about, but this could be somebody else entirely we don't know.”

Cas patted both the boys on the shoulders and smiled down at you. “Well, whoever it is... we'll find them.”

He pushed past the three of you then and you all watched as he began mingling with the police.

“’We'll’ find them,” Dean said. “That's great.”

He turned to look down at you but the moment he did, your eyes flashed blue and your entire body stiffened. Suddenly, you were looking up at him with cold, disapproving eyes and not the adoring, impatient look you usually gave him when he was being a jackass.

Dean swallowed and glanced at his brother before slinking off. Sam didn’t follow when Ezekiel did. Seeing you like that was one of the hardest things he had to experience. 

****

The four of you sat around a table in a bar that night. Sam and Dean were finally relaxing with Cas around. It seemed as though he realised neither of them had told you the real reason for his leaving. Not only that but he was making you laugh. You were happy to finally see him again and that in itself eased Sam and Dean’s fears.

“It is so good being together again,” Cas said when you calmed down from another bout of laughter. He took a swig of his beer before holding it up. “You know, this is my first beer as a human. I hope it's okay, me joining you?”

You gave him a confused frown. “Why wouldn't it be okay?”

Sam and Dean shared a look, alarmed at the sudden turn in conversation. 

“You know, Cas,” Sam said, “are you sure you're ready to jump back into all this?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “I mean, it seemed to me like you'd actually found some peace.”

“Hey,” Cas said, “you once told me that you don't choose what you do. It chooses you.” He clinked his beer bottle against Dean’s. “I'm a part of this. Like it or not.”

You smiled. “Well, then, in that case, we have to figure out, uh, who are we up against? What do they want? And, how do we stop them?”

“Well, Bartholomew wants to reverse Metatron's spell,” Cas said. “Presumably to – to retake Heaven once his following is large enough. That's according to April.”

“The reaper you banged?”

“Yeah, and Dean stabbed.”

You nodded. “Yeah. She was hot.”

Sam cleared his throat, half-chuckling as he slid from his seat. “Alright. I'm gonna get us another round.”

“No. I'll get it,” Cas said as he all but jumped off his seat and finished his beer. “You know, I've never done this before.”

Dean sighed and shook his head when Cas made it to the bar. “One beer, he's hammered.”

“Oh, boy,” Sam sighed as he watched your eyes flash blue and your body stiffen. 

“Well?” Ezekiel growled as he looked between Sam and Dean. “What are you going to do about this?”

Dean frowned and Sam slouched over his empty beer bottle. 

“About Cas?” Dean said.

“He is a beacon, Dean, pulling every angel for miles down on our heads.”

“Alright, you know what, Zeke? Level with us. What is it that you're so afraid of?”

He watched him swallow and knew, before Ezekiel even opened your mouth, that he was lying. “I told you. When I chose to answer your prayers and heal Y/N, I chose sides. That means I'm not in good standing with certain angels.”

“Okay, well, you know what? Cas isn't in good standing with any angel, all right? But here he is, ass on the line, fighting the fight. So tell me, what makes you so special?”

“Here we go,” Cas said as he approached the table, beers in hand. “Three brewskies.”

“I'm going to get something out of the car,” Ezekiel said with a hard look at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam stared after you, looking about as lost as Dean felt. 

Cas played his fingers along his bottle, chewing on his bottom lip before he cleared his throat and said, “I, um, I noticed you two look ... kind of uncomfortable whenever Y/N mentions my leaving. Doesn't she know that you both told me to leave?”

Dean sighed and scratched the back of his head as he looked down at his own bottle.

Sam leaned across the table and looked at Cas. “Cas, when – when Y/N was doing the trials to seal up Hell, it messed her up. The third one nearly killed her. If we'd let her finish, it would have. She's still messed up – bad.”

Cas frowned. “You said the angel, Ezekiel, helped heal her.”

Dean nodded but avoided the question. “Look, we got to do anything we can to get her back. Now, if that means that we keep our distance from you for a little while, then ... then we don't have a choice. We don't feel good about it, but we don't have a choice. It's great to have your help, Cas. Okay? But we just can't work together.”

Cas’s face fell as he looked back down at his bottle. As much as he was upset about not working with the three of you, he couldn’t help but wonder if Dean’s shutting him out had anything to do with Cas confessing his feelings for you.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Sam and Dean would try and keep you from him forever.

****

The angel felt you nudging at his mind as he stepped outside in your body. A body he hadn’t seen in thousands of years. He had wanted to fall to his knees and weep over your form when he had come to the aid of the Winchesters and found you laid up in the hospital bed.

The Winchester’s reputation had reached him even in a jail cell. And when he’d heard of a woman who had mated the both of them, he’d known it was you. 

You always found a way back to him. Whether by ear or in person, the two of you always found a way to each other. 

It became harder when God had forced you to start reincarnating as a human but he always heard stories of your many lives. Of the many men and women you brought together   
and pushed into victory. 

Often he would hear God mutter that you were truly your mother’s creation when you yet again swept through the world in a storm of fury and hard-earned compassion.

Those stories are what helped him get through the millennia in that cell. That and the hope that he would someday see you again. 

When the angels fell he had hit the ground running as best he could to track down the Winchesters. It was by luck only that Dean Winchester had sent out a country-wide prayer. He was cautious to call it Fate’s doing. You had never been under her thumb. 

It was one of the reasons God loathed you. 

You had been created to ruin his own creation and so God had cursed you to live your many lives in misery. 

Somehow, you always found your way out of the darkness.

The angel closed his – your – eyes as he felt you nudge at his mind again. You had always been a restless woman. He should have known better than to think he could possess you without your knowledge. 

A rustle in the ally had him turning slowly until his eyes rested on a short, ragged man. 

“Well, I'm really looking forward to this,” the man said with a knowing smile.

“Excuse me?” the angel replied. 

He tried to ignore the caution you were sending him. The man was Metatron, from what he could gather from your memories. And though he had seemed neutral when you’d met him, something about him being outside the bar sent alarm bells ringing in your head. 

You had always been sceptical. He had always been the trusting one. And so, even after all these years, he soothed your caution as a lover would and stood his ground. 

“Oh, please,” Metatron said as he stepped further out of the shadows. “I know who you really are. And it isn't Ezekiel.”

And, even after all these years, you had been right in your caution. 

“Relax,” Metatron chuckled when he saw the dread in your face. “I'm not here to out you. But I am curious, why Ezekiel?”

The angel swallowed and ducked his head in shame. “They say he is a good, and ... honourable angel.” Had you been there in person, you would have scolded him for hanging his head, so he lifted it back up and looked Metatron in the eye. 

You’d once told him that even shameful men had a right to honour and a level of respect. Those words rang in his head now, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was from his memories or an echo of your first incarnation that still spoke through you.

“Ahhhh,” Metatron breathed as he held up a finger. “Everything they say you are not. I see your point ... Gadreel.”

Had he been in his own vessel, Gadreel’s chest would have swelled with indignation. But he was in your body. He stood as tall and as proud as he could but he knew that tall and proud had never been your strong suite. 

You looked your most fearsome when you were rife with anger and determination. 

“The stories about me – they are not true!” Gadreel snapped.

“And yet you spent countless thousands of years locked in Heaven's darkest dungeon. And now you're hiding in this human, posing as Ezekiel,” Metatron said as he gestured towards your body. He shook his head. “Tragic.”

Gadreel looked away to hide the relief he felt that Metatron didn’t recognise you. It had been an odd gift bestowed upon you by your creator. You were only ever remembered and recognised by those worthy of you. Everyone else seemed to forget you the moment you left their lives. 

It was how you’d escaped God’s notice for so long. How you’d made it into the Garden of Eden. That wasn’t to say that God wasn’t worthy of you – it was impossible to know that for sure – in fact, he was immune to the cloak that had been bestowed upon you. But God had never been one to do his own dirty work. And all of his spies had been unworthy of you.

All bar one. 

Except, that ‘one’ had been less of a spy and more of a rabid animal let loose to chase away the pests and become one in itself.

Gadreel still had nightmares about him. And every time he woke screaming, he thanked your creator that you couldn’t remember your past lives. All while he cursed her for the same thing when he looked into your eyes and found no recognition. None of that love and devotion you had felt for him so long ago. 

“It broke His heart to lock you away, you know?” Metatron said. Gadreel looked back at him. “You were God's most trusted. That's why He chose you to protect the Garden. Your one task was to keep evil from entering ... from befouling His cherished creation, mankind, and you failed Him!”

“Not my doing,” Gadreel said as he held onto his anger by a thread. 

He was tired of being blamed for God’s mistake. If He had only left you alone … but he’d become consumed by jealousy at your perfection. So he’d ruined you, and in doing so, tainted his own creation. 

Gadreel had been slapped with the blame. 

“If you had not fallen for that creature, this would have never happened,” God had said. Then he slammed Gadreel’s cell shut, and that was the last time he saw him and you. 

God had killed you that night and forced you to reincarnate as a human from then on. A piece of Gadreel had died with you. 

“Well,” Metatron said as he threw his hands up, “for whatever reason, the serpent entered. The Earth is cursed with evil. Someone had to be blamed.”

“What is it you want of me, Metatron?”

Metatron sighed. “Just to be your friend. You and I go back a long way. I was actually the one who freed you.”

Gadreel perked at those words and he felt your nudging become more frantic. You were frightened for Gadreel now but he was too curious for his own good.

It was how he’d fallen in love with you.

“You?” Gadreel said as he moved your body a step forward.

Metatron smiled and stretched his arms out to his sides. “I was the one who caused all the angels to fall. Including the imprisoned ones. You're welcome.”

Gadreel furrowed your brow. “No angels are in Heaven? None at all?”

“No, and you know, at first, I thought I would love it. But it's a big place. My solitude is getting tedious.”

“And so?”

A sly smile spread across Metatron’s face as he stepped closer to Gadreel. “And so ... plan ‘B’. Rebuild Heaven as the place God envisioned it, only with a handpicked few. No more anemic functionaries like Bartholomew. And no more stupid angels.” He chewed on his bottom lip in consideration. “Maybe some funny ones. You were His most trusted, Gadreel. You want to take back your reputation? You want to reclaim the Heaven that was? We could do this together.”

You were practically pounding on the door of his mind, now. He couldn’t hold you back for much longer. Even your voice rang out through his mind.

“No, Gadreel,” you cried.

But he had to at least consider Metatron’s offer. If he could do what he said he could, then it could be Gadreel’s last chance to restore you as an angel. No more reincarnations. No more forgetting him. 

No more forgetting that he was the first thing you ever loved on this planet. No more forgetting that you were what he gave everything up for. 

He got away from Metatron as quickly as he could, promising to consider his offer. He needed to meld his mind with yours before you broke through and freaked out because you were suddenly in an alley-way. 

He found a darker part of the alley when Metatron left, an area where no one would disturb either of you, then he closed his eyes and melded his mind into yours. 

He found you sitting at the edge of the pier where you always sat. It wasn’t a place you had been too physically but it was the place your mind had gone to when you were a child to escape the trauma. 

A trauma Gadreel still cursed his creator for every day. 

You were calm now. Now more banging against his mind. He knew it was because you were sure you could convince him to stay away from Metatron.

He smiled at the thought. 

The feeling of dimples pulling up his cheeks let him know he was back in his original vessel. Even in your mind, he couldn’t take on his true form. Not while you were human. 

Gadreel’s boots sounded heavy when they fell against the wood of the pier. The old planks creaked underneath him as he sat down beside you and let his feet swing over the lake. 

“I’ve never been to a lake,” you said softly. 

It still shocked Gadreel to know that after all these years, your voice could still send shivers down his spine and lull him into a calm he’d never felt around anyone but you.

“But I’ve always wanted to live on one,” you continued. “How could it be, that my escape as a child was towards something I’d never experienced? I might not even like lakes for all I know.”

Gadreel’s smile was soft as he looked down at you. You were still looking out at the water. 

“It’s because we met by a lake,” he said. You looked up at him and, as though he were just a boy, his breath hitched and his heart rate sped up. “You used to swim in it every day. It was the only place Adam couldn’t find you. He was a terrible swimmer.”

You laughed in shock at the odd characteristic of Earth’s first man. Gadreel laughed with you as he looked back out at the lake. He wanted to keep his eyes fixed with yours but he was afraid that, if he did, he would never separate your minds. 

“Adam?” you said. “As in … the first man?”

“Yes. The Garden was a lot smaller than most people know. He was constantly pursuing you.”

Your brows shot up and you swung your legs as you looked out at the water. “Wow. Should I be flattered?”

Gadreel smiled and looked back down at you. “No. He was clumsy and … not very smart.”

You chuckled. “So, if I was trying to get away from Adam, why didn’t I just leave the Garden? I was an angel, right?”

Gadreel nodded. “You could have but it was easier to hide in the Garden away from Him. And despite Adam, the Garden was always your favourite place.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip and you smiled as you bumped his shoulder with yours. “Or, maybe, I just wanted to see a certain angel?”

Gadreel let out a laugh of shock. “I’m afraid not, little one. It was many years after we met before my love was reciprocated. You used to call me a statue.”

Your head fell back in laughter and your feet swung a little harder. “No. Really?” you said as your laughter died down. “You don’t seem all that cold and stoic to me.”

“I was. I still am … but you … I’m different around you. You’ve changed many people over the years, little one.”

You breathed out a sigh and looked back out over the water. “I still can’t believe it. It just doesn’t seem … like me.”

“I promise you, it is.”

He reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear and felt himself soften when you leaned into his touch and closed your eyes. 

The moment was short lived. As though you’d just realised what you were doing, you opened your eyes and pulled away from him as though he burned. 

He sighed and let his hand drop, reminding himself that it would take time.

“Gadreel, I …”

“You are mated to the Winchesters. I know.” You pressed your lips together in a sympathetic smile and rested your head on his shoulder. “That will change in time.”

Your head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked down at you and felt his heart break at the wariness in your eyes. You had never been frightened of him before. 

“It’s time for us to separate. We must do it before we become lost in your body.” 

He stood then and made his way up the pier. You climbed to your feet and ran after him. You called his name but he didn’t stop until you grabbed his arm and forced him to. 

He looked down at your pleading eyes and knew that he would tell you anything you wanted to know. He had never been very good at keeping things from you let alone lying. 

“What did you mean, Gadreel?” you demanded.

He pressed his lips together and glanced out at the water before he looked back down at you. “I’m going to take Metatron’s offer.” 

Your hand fell away from him and for a second he wanted to take his words back just to feel your fingers wrap around his arm again. 

“You can’t,” you said with a shake of your head. “After what he’s done –”

“I know, little one. I know what he’s done. But if there’s even a chance that he can restore Heaven than I must help him.”

“Why?” you said. “Why bother? You haven’t seen the outside of a prison cell in thousands of years. What makes you so sure they won’t just put you back?”

He closed the gap between the two of you in desperation and cupped your face. “I have to try. Perhaps, if I get in this Metatron’s good graces, he will restore you as an angel.”

You frowned and pulled your face from his hands. “What? I don’t want to be an angel, Gadreel.”

“You will,” he said. He was sure of it. “When you are restored to what you were you will have your memories back. You will remember who I am.”

You scoffed. “And what about Sam and Dean? I may remember you but I’m not just going to forget that I love them.”

Gadreel swallowed and nodded in understanding. He glanced away again before looking back at you. “I know. Which is why …” He sighed. “I have spent millennia waiting for you. But when you become an angel, we will have millennia together. So … I am willing to give you this life to live as you wish with the Winchesters. And when you are ready to leave it, you only have to call for me.”

You shook your head and turned away from him as you ran your fingers through your hair. 

Gadreel pressed his lips together and forced himself to confess, “If you choose not to call on me at the end of your life … I will respect that.” 

It physically hurt him to say it but it was the truth. He had never been able to force you to do anything. Nor did he want to. 

You turned back to him with a curious expression and he continued, “I will not take away your right to choose … but if you remain a human you will only relive the same life over and over again. There will be different people in your life but you will never change. You will suffer and you will love more than any other human. You will also fight in wars that were never yours to begin with. Sometimes you will prevail. Sometimes you will fail.”

You swallowed and shook your head again. Gadreel could see that this wasn’t something you wanted to think about right now. It wasn’t a decision you could make. 

You were silent for a moment before you said, “Why don’t I ever remember these conversations?”

He shifted on his feet as he tried to keep up with your change in conversation.

“I mean when I’m here … I remember the dozens of times we’ve talked,” you continued. “I remember everything you’ve told me about us. About what actually happened at that church. About me almost dying in the hospital. But when I’m in control of my body … I don’t remember any of it.”

Gadreel nodded, confident in his ability to give you a sufficient answer. To at least ease some of your confusion. 

“When our minds meld,” he explained, “you gain most of my short term memory.”

“So … they’re not even my memories that I’m experiencing? They’re yours?” He nodded and you chuffed. “No wonder I feel so tall when I think about them.” 

He breathed out a laugh. “Even when I have control of your body, you still have access to my short-term memories. The fact that you can talk to me while I’m in control is just a show of the strength you have. I could force you down further so you had no idea you weren’t in control …”

“But?”

“But I would never do that unless I thought it was better for you that way.”

You nodded. “What about when I control my body?”

“When you control your body … our minds are completely separated. Sometimes I get glimpses of what’s happening. Glimpses of your thoughts. But mostly I keep to myself. I … I watch your memories. Especially the worst ones you have. Sometimes they’re so bad that … even you can’t remember them.”

Your eyes welled up as you closed the space between the two of you. “Why would you do that, Gadreel?”

He swallowed and glanced down at his hands. “To punish myself.”

And just like that, he separated your minds. Because he couldn’t relive the pain of what he’d done to cause all of this in the first place. 

He was ashamed to tell you it was his fault.

****

You were sitting in Sam’s lap at the control table when Dean walked in. You gave him a smile that he returned before pressing a kiss to your lips and falling into his own chair. 

“Any word from Cas?” you said as you played with the hair at the nape of Sam’s neck.

“Nothing yet,” Dean said. 

Your brows furrowed at his care free demeanour. “And we're not ... worried about him, that he just took off like that again? I mean, it's not like he does this kind of stuff alone.”

“It's the way he wanted it, honestly.”

You looked at Sam but his eyes were fixed on the laptop in front of him.

“Look, baby,” Dean said when he realised you weren’t convinced, “he's been all over the map since he got his wings clipped.” He jerked his chin towards the laptop. “What do you got?” You sighed and pressed your lips together. He rolled his eyes at your stubbornness and pushed his chair up next to Sam, pulling your legs up into his lap when he was settled. “Obituaries,” he said as he looked at the article and picture on the laptop screen. “That one of the bikers?”

“Yeah. His name was Red Dawg,” Sam said as he pulled up the picture.

Dean chuffed. “Of course it was.”

“It's not what you think. Look, he's a family guy. Big in the PTA, he played Santa at Christmas parties.”

“So, what? Just one day, he up and joined a biker gang?”

“No, he did that years ago,” you said.

Dean frowned and Sam pulled up a group photo of the bikers. “Get this. These are all the victims, right? They were all baptized together.”

“Baptized?”

“Yeah. They were a born-again biker gang.”

“Well, that is not something you hear every day.”

Sam shook his head and you frowned when you saw something in one of the pictures. You leaned forward and pointed to an area on one of the biker’s vests. 

“Can you make that bigger?” you said. Sam obliged. It was a patch in the shape of red wings with ‘Boyle’s Boys’ embroidered into it. “Boyle's Boys? Boyle, as in reverend Buddy Boyle?” You looked at the brothers. 

With a look of revelation, Sam brought up Red Dawg’s obituary again. “Listen to this. Red Dawg's widow said he was always religious, but a week before he died, he came home from a prayer meeting and was a changed man filled with divine glory.”

“So, Boyle's at it again,” Dean said. “Selling folks on being meat suits for angels.”

“Just what – talking to smaller groups now?” you said. 

Dean shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe, uh, softening up thousands at a time, he wasn't able to control what angels got let in. This way, Bartholomew's followers can jump in just as soon as Boyle does his thing.”

“So, Red Dawg and his guys were Bartholomew people?” Sam said.

“Yeah, and they got slaughtered. Which means that this new group is even worse. Haven't I always said that angels are dicks?”

****

Gadreel stood under an underpass with Metatron. His attention was phasing out as Metatron droned on about his existence amongst the humans. 

He tried to prod you with his mind but you weren’t having any of it. You were still angry that he was going to accept Metatron’s deal so you were giving Gadreel the silent treatment. It was a tactic as old as God and it worked every time. 

Gadreel sighed when his prodding did nothing and he turned his attention back to Metatron.

“Frankly, I never got used to them,” Metatron said. “I lived among them for centuries. I had to isolate myself to keep sane.”

“Humans do seem chaotic,” Gadreel said, just to get a rise out of you.

“Which makes them fascinating, but ... all that emotion. Geez. And the wasted energy. It's just... exhausting.”

“I know,” Gadreel sighed when he gave you another hard prod and you did nothing. 

Metatron took his sigh as exhaustion from the entire human race rather than the exasperation it was for your silence. 

“I can free you from them,” Metatron said. “From all of them.”

Gadreel took a step closer to Metatron. “You intend to be the ruler of this new Heaven, am I correct?”

“Uh ...” Metatron tried to stifle his smile but it was smug enough that it even made you rise up in anger. “It is a burden I feel I must accept.”

“Then Metatron, does that not make you God?” Gadreel said in an effort to entice more of your anger. It was far better than your silence. 

Metatron chuckled and you hammered at the door of Gadreel’s mind, trying to claw your way through to get at Metatron. Despite the aggression, it brought Gadreel peace to feel you there. 

“Semantics,” Metatron said. “I don't know that I'd take on that name ... necessarily. No. When the time comes, we'll call me ... ‘X’.”

Gadreel stifled his smile when he felt you roll your eyes and say some choice words about Metatron’s new pseudonym. 

“You and I ...” Metatron said, “we could have paradise again, Gadreel.”

Gadreel knew that his paradise was kicking at the door of his mind right now. All he wanted was to ensure you never forgot that again. 

****

There was another angel attack. In Utah. A college bible study group and their guest speaker – who turned out to be a top-shelf church lady – were all dead. Their insides were scorched and the kids’ eyes were missing but not the church lady’s, which meant she was probably an angel. 

Dean found out that she was a part of a glee club that drove to its gigs on a bus. After some digging, he also found out that a witness had seen the bus leaving the biker bar not long before the bodies were found. 

The best guess that the three of you had was that the church lady and whoever she was running with killed Bartholomew’s bikers before being hit back by more of his angels. 

Innocents as young as college kids were dying left, right and centre. The clock was ticking. Kevin had never had to work harder to decipher a tablet in his life. 

All of that was the least of the brother’s problems, however. Later that day, after you’d disappeared for the umpteenth time, Dean had gotten a call from Cas.

He’d gotten away after being kidnapped by an angel called Malachi. He’d even managed to get his mojo back, though it wasn’t his grace that was running it. 

That hadn’t been the only reason he’d called. He’d found out from Malachi that Ezekiel had died in the fall. 

“We need a spell. ASAP,” Dean growled as he slammed his hands down on the library table, jolting Kevin awake. 

Sam was pulling out a chair beside Kevin and franticly flipping through the lore books he’d been reading. Cas’s words were still ringing in his ears. 

“Everyone always needs a spell, and it’s always ASAP,” Kevin said in exhaustion as he rubbed a hand over his face. 

“Alright, listen,” Sam said as he turned to Kevin. “An angel can't be expelled by another human, okay, only by the host, right? But, what if there was a way to power down the angel, so that it wasn't in charge for a few seconds?”

Kevin frowned and shook his head. “What?”

“For instance,” Dean said, “if – if hypothetically, I wanted to speak with the vessel but not have the squatter listen in.”

“Why?”

“Why? Kevin, we've got tons of possessed humans out there. You with me? And when the angels kill each other off, the humans are taking it in the teeth. So what if I wanted to clue the human in so that she, or he, could spit the angel out? That would be a good thing, right?”

“Uh ... yeah?”

“Okay. So, hit the tablet. Let's go!”

Dean turned on his heel to leave the library and search for you as Sam went back to the books.

“Now?” Kevin called.

“Yesterday, Cinderella!” Dean snapped.

****

Gadreel approached Metatron beneath the under pass once more. You weren’t banging at the door of his mind anymore but at least you weren’t giving him the silent treatment either. You were leaning against the door now, talking to him. 

You fell silent when Gadreel stopped in front of Metatron but he could still feel your presence. Watching. Waiting. 

“I've been thinking this over, Metatron,” Gadreel said. “I will join you as second in command.”

You sighed and let your head fall against the door. 

With an expression of relief and excitement, Metatron said, “Bravo, Gadreel! This move will erase the mark that has hounded you through the centuries. Heaven will be restored, as will your reputation as one of its greatest heroes.”

“I thank you for this opportunity.” His goal had never seemed so within reach. 

“There is just one more thing,” Metatron said.

You perked up at that. “I told you there was a catch,” you said.

Gadreel pressed his lips together at the sound of your voice. It was getting harder and harder to keep you back. Whether it was because of your mental strength or because he was subconsciously letting you through just to hear your voice, he didn’t know. But neither would surprise him. 

“I need to be sure of your fidelity,” Metatron said.

Gadreel frowned. “You have it.”

“No, I mean really sure. We have enemies who pose an imminent threat to our effort. They must be neutralized.”

“Don’t, Gadreel,” you said. “I told you he would do this. This isn’t who you are.”

You were right. You were always right. So he repeated your words. “That ... that is not who I am.”

Metatron rolled his eyes and said, in a sarcastic manner, “Yeah.” He pulled a yellow card with a name on it from his pocket and handed it to Gadreel. “Here's the first name on your to-do list. Decide.”

The moment Gadreel read the name you began pounding on his door again. “Don’t do it, Gadreel. Please. Don’t hurt him.”

For the first time, Gadreel seriously doubted his plan. For a moment, he seriously considered giving up any hope of having you forever. He considered remaining on Earth in his original vessel and staying by your side through your many lives. If only to spare you the pain of killing your friend.

And then he made it back to the bunker and all those doubts disappeared when he overheard Dean and Kevin talking. 

“Alright, so this masterpiece we just painted – it's gonna work, right?” Dean said.

“The sigils are supposed to briefly hobble the possessing angel,” Kevin said. “If the info's correct.”

“Wait, what?”

“I only had time to get a little from the tablet. The rest came from an old Men of Letters book. As soon as your blood touches the ignition sigil, the spell kicks in.”

Gadreel left for the storeroom when he figured out that’s where the sigil was. He’d heard enough. 

They were going to kick him out of your body and, because you would be in control, you wouldn’t remember who he was. You’d expel him and he would never get the chance to remind you of who he was. 

The thought that you would forget him all over again was enough to cement his decision. His heart broke when you fell to your knees at the door of his mind and wept but he needed to do this. 

You would forgive him in time. He was sure of it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I won’t allow you to watch what happens next.” And with those words, he pushed you down so far it would take you a few days to realise you weren’t experiencing reality.

****

Gadreel did his best to play you convincingly when Dean lured him into the room with the sigil where Sam was waiting. Your absence at the door of his mind hurt him but he forced himself to work through it. 

He was doing this for you

When Dean shut the door and slashed open his hand to press a bloodied print over it, Gadreel stepped back to keep both the brothers in view. 

He donned his best, shocked look. It wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be to act like you. But then, he knew you better than anyone. Perhaps even better than the Winchesters.

“What's going on? What are you doing?” Gadreel said.

“Baby, I got to tell you some stuff fast,” Dean said as he approached you. “It's gonna piss you off.”

Gadreel nodded and glanced at Sam. “Okay.”

“Those trials really messed you up,” Sam said.

Gadreel sighed and rolled your eyes. “Yes, I know that –”

“No, you don't,” Dean said as he moved forward and gripped your shoulders in his hands. “I mean messed you up like almost dead. No more birthdays, dust to dust. Well, that messed us up, so we made a move, okay? A tough move about you without talking it over because you were in a coma.”

“Wait, what? When?”

“You were in the hospital,” Sam said, “and they said you were gonna die.”

Gadreel made a show of swallowing as he pushed Dean’s hands off of your body. “What did you do?”

Dean’s mouth worked speechlessly for a moment as he looked at you, and all Gadreel could think was that he knew how hard it was to tell you something he knew would make you hate him. 

He almost felt pity for the Winchester’s, and then he recalled all the memories he’d come across in your mind of the most intimate moments you’d shared with them. All the moments their breath had been heavy against your neck. All the moments you’d writhed beneath or above them and called their names.

He remembered when his name was the one you called out so long ago.

He’d learnt way back then that jealousy and possessiveness over you brought him nothing but misery. That didn’t mean he didn’t hold resentment towards the Winchester’s after seeing your memories.

That made the anger he was about to express towards them that much more real.

“We let an angel in,” Sam said.

Gadreel furrowed your brow and took a step back as he looked between the two of them. “In what?”

“In you,” Dean said. “He said he could heal you and he is.”

“He's still in me?” Dean swallowed and Sam ducked his head. “Wait. That's impossible. That couldn't happen. I never invited him in.”

“I tricked you into saying yes,” Dean said. “It seemed like the only way.”

Gadreel ran your hand through your hair and turned your back to the brothers. He took a few steps forward before turning back to them. 

“So ... you thought I couldn't handle it? So-So you took over?” he yelled – though it was your voice that bounced off the walls. 

“No, we did what we had to do!” Dean said. Gadreel had seen the desperation in the man’s face reflected many times in his own. You were the kind of woman that made people want to fight, no matter how hard it was. “You would've never agreed to it, and you would've died.”

Gadreel spread your arms. “Well, maybe I would've liked the choice, at least.”

“We can do this – later,” Sam said as he stepped forward. 

Gadreel pushed his hands away when he tried to cup your face. He may have been playing you but he wasn’t willing to let them touch you while he was in control. 

Sam sighed and straightened, letting his hands fall to his sides. “You can – you can kick our ass all you want. Right now, we got bigger problems.”

“Bigger?” Gadreel growled. 

“The angel lied to us. Okay?” Dean said. “He – he's not who he said he was. He said his name was Ezekiel. Cool guy, according to Cas, but it's not Ezekiel.”

Again, Gadreel made a show of swallowing and looking between the brothers in fear. “Who is he?”

“We don't know,” Sam said. “Apparently, Ezekiel is dead.”

“Whoever this guy is can end you in a heartbeat if he wants to, so you have got to dump him,” Dean said. 

Gadreel drew in a deep breath as he considered his options. The last thing he wanted was to put you through that pain but the more agitated Sam and Dean got about the problem, the more he realised they would never let him near you if you expelled him. 

“Are you hearing what we’re saying?” Sam said. “I think you're well enough now, but you got to expel him.” 

Gadreel shook your head and pushed past the brothers to head towards the door without another word. 

“Baby? Baby! Come on, please,” Dean pleaded. His arms went around your waist and Gadreel froze when Dean’s forehead rested against the back of your head. “Please. I’m so sorry. I just … we couldn’t let you go. We weren’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready for that.”

Gadreel’s mind retched at the feeling of Dean’s arms around you but he knew you would stand there and listen. You always gave the brothers the benefit of the doubt. You gave everyone you loved the benefit of the doubt. 

Dean’s face dropped down to rest in the crook of your neck. “Please. We can’t do this again. I saw what it did to Sam. And when you left for that month … please. I’ll do anything to make it right. Just give us a chance.”

Gadreel shoved him away. He couldn’t stand there and listen to Dean beg, not when he’d done the same thing thousands of years ago. Not when he’d told you similar words on the day you’d allowed Lucifer into the Garden. 

Gadreel turned to look at him, and the lost, desperate look in Dean’s eyes reminded Gadreel so much of himself that he made the mistake of punching the man. He hit the ground and Gadreel left before either of them realised that that was the last thing you would ever do. 

You had no qualms about doing what was necessary when it was needed – about hurting people (no matter their innocence) – but when it came to the people you loved … you would never be able to bring yourself to hurt them. 

It was only a matter of time before the brothers remembered that.

Killing Kevin had been far harder than he’d initially thought. He was confusing his own feelings about the boy with yours but the worst part was knowing how you would react when you finally came back to yourself and found your friend dead. 

Sam and Dean had realised something was wrong almost as soon as Gadreel had left the room but still, when they came around the corner to find Kevin’s lifeless body, it had shocked them to their core. 

Gadreel had them pinned up against the structural beams in the library before either of them got a chance to process the death. 

“Y/N?” Sam ground out as he tried to fight against the power that was pressing him against the beam. 

“There is no more Y/N,” Gadreel said. It would be better if they believed that but he knew better than to put too much hope in that. “But, I played her convincingly, I thought.”

“How did you ...” Dean groaned in pain before he could finish his sentence. 

“I heard you talk with Kevin Tran tonight.” Gadreel turned to the table and packed away Kevin’s notes and the angel tablet into a bag that was sitting on the floor. “Alter a sigil ... even the slightest,” Gadreel continued when he was finished, “alter the spell.” He held up his hand to show the brothers the green dusting of paint on his fingers from the sigil. “Sorry about Kevin, but ultimately ... it's for the best. I did what I had to.”

He knelt by Kevin’s body and placed the yellow card he’d received from Metatron on the boy’s chest. He straightened and gave the Winchesters one last glance, the guilt eating away at him, before leaving the bunker.


	40. Road Trip With A Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brother's - with the help of Crowley and Castiel - finally manage to track you down and expel Gadreel from your body. But by then, the damage had already been done. Neither of the Winchester's really has you back, and they're left with a chilling realisation about repercussions they had never considered. Meanwhile, Cas seems to have made his own discovery concerning Sam and his feelings for you. He begins to realise that perhaps Sam's attachment to you isn't as healthy as it seems.

You weren’t sitting at the end of the pier waiting for Gadreel like he’d hoped. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected it. He could still feel the searing pain of your despair. 

After killing Kevin, he’d taken a few days to himself, waiting for you to come back to reality. The last thing he wanted was to be with Metatron when you awoke – he didn’t think he could hide your presence.

He’d been right. 

He’d found a motel to stay in for a few days and sat at the end of one of the beds, waiting for you to dig your way out of the dream state he’d put you in. The moment you had, the despair, guilt and anger had hit him so hard he collapsed back on the bed and had to force a mind meld before you could take control or force him out. 

He looked out over the lake, wondering where else you could possibly be when he felt something shove him from behind. He stumbled forward before turning just in time to catch you as you launched yourself at him.

He fell to his back on the pier with a grunt. The moment he saw your tear-stained face and the anger that mixed with the grief in your eyes, he let his hands fall from your waist to the pier. He looked up into your face – your tears fell to his cheeks and neck. 

One of your hands was twisted in the front of his shirt while you other was raised in a fist – ready to strike him. Your body shook with the force of your emotions.

Your face was twisted in anger but you seemed to hesitate with your fist still raised.

He realised then that you wouldn’t hit him because you’d come to care for him. And you could never hurt the people you cared about, no matter what they did.

That should have made him happy. He should have been ecstatic that you were at least developing some sort of feelings for him but he just wasn’t. Not when he could see, firsthand, the pain he’d caused you. He didn’t deserve your care. 

And he certainly didn’t deserve your love if you were ever willing to give it again. 

“It’s okay,” he said. He wanted you to strike him. It was the least he could give you. Still, you hesitated. “I killed your friend!” he growled. 

Your hand tightened in his shirt and your fist raised a little higher as you pressed your lips together. 

Gadreel closed his eyes and waited for the blow. 

It never came.

He opened his eyes again and all the anger seemed to fall from your face, leaving behind only misery. 

You let your hand fall to his chest and slid to the pier beside him, one of your legs still thrown across his waist as you stared at nothing. 

After a moment of watching you, Gadreel lifted a hand and rubbed it against your thigh in an effort to soothe you but all it did was make you sob. He sat up and pulled you into his body. Your hands clenched in his shirt again as you cried into his chest.

“If Kevin had stood between you and your life with the Winchesters,” he said, “you would have killed him too.”

You cried harder and allowed him to wrap his arms around you because you knew he was right. You couldn’t punish Gadreel for doing the very thing you would have done hundreds of times over. 

Gadreel spent so long trying to comfort you that by the time he was able to leave you, it took him a moment to differentiate between reality and your mind. 

You were silent when he went to see Thaddeus (the next name on the list), only raising your head in irritation when you listened to them speak of how he’d tortured Gadreel in Heaven’s prison. 

It brought Gadreel a small comfort that you didn’t hate him enough to stop caring about his suffering. And it brought him pleasure to drive an angel blade through Thaddeus’s heart. 

****

Castiel walked into the bunker library to find Sam slumped down in a chair, staring at nothing with tear stains streaking down his cheeks, and Dean packing an assortment of weapons into his duffel bag. 

If the state of Sam hadn’t clued Castiel in to something being wrong, then the state of the room would have. 

It was destroyed.

Chairs had been tipped over and broken. A lamp was shattered on the ground. Books had been thrown across the room. 

Dean had tried to be cheery when he saw Castiel but as soon as the angel asked what was wrong his face fell and his body slumped down into the chair adjacent to his brother.  
When Castiel sat down with them and listened to their story, he suddenly understood why everything was in disarray. He had the urge to throw something himself. 

“Y/N was dying. What were we supposed to do?” Sam said. His voice was broken and he looked as though he’d just survived a war. 

“You let an angel possess her?” Cas said. 

“He said it was the only way,” Dean growled, “and we believed him. Now Y/N's gone. Kevin's ...”

“I’m … I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well ... sorry don't pay the bills, does it?” Dean stood and took a few paces away from the table as he dragged a hand over his face. “It sure as hell ain't gonna bring Kevin back. We got to find that son of a bitch.”

“If the angel possessing Y/N isn't Ezekiel, then who is it?”

“A dead man walking,” Dean said as he turned back to them.

“What, you're gonna destroy him?”

“Damn right.”

Sam frowned and looked at his brother as he finally realised what Dean was saying. 

“You kill an angel, it’s vessel dies, too,” Castiel growled. It didn’t matter that Dean had warned the angel away from you, Castiel wasn’t about to let you die. 

“Think I don't know that?” Dean growled back. 

“Dean, no,” Sam snapped as he leaned forward in his chair. “We’re not hurting her. She is not dying for our mistake.”

Dean moved forward and braced his hands against the table as he looked down at his brother. “Sam, if I don't end Y/N and that halo burns her out and I ...” He heaved out a sigh as he bowed his head. “God, I was so damn stupid.”

“You were stupid for the right reasons,” Cas said as he stood from the table.

“Yeah,” Dean scoffed as he straightened, “like that matters.”

“It does. Sometimes that's all that matters.” Dean gave him a doubtful look and Sam went back to staring blankly at the table. “Listen to me. Y/N is strong. Stronger than any of us really know. If she knew an angel was possessing her, she could fight. She could cast the angel out.”

“Maybe. But as far as I know, she's in the dark,” Dean said. “I don't know how we clue her in.”

“Do you remember Alfie?”

“The kid angel?” Sam said as he lifted his head again with a curious expression. 

“Before he died, he told me the demons were able to dig into his mind, access his coding. We might be able to do that here. Might be able to – to bypass the angel and talk directly to Y/N.”

“And you think that would work?” Sam said. 

He stood from the table, hope filling his eyes, and Cas couldn’t help but wonder just how broken Sam would be if there were no other option’s than to kill you.

Dean would bury himself in work and booze and guilt. But Sam … he’d never be able to do that. He tried forgetting you once and it had nearly killed the man. You’d only been gone for a year then, and, as Cas thought about it, he realised there was only one reason Sam would have suddenly decided to go back to the cabin all those years ago. 

He realised then, something that neither you or Dean would ever know. 

Sam had gone back to the cabin that day to kill himself. 

“I don't know,” Cas said slowly as he stared at the younger Winchester in this new light, “but I think we should try.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “Where do we start?”

Cas had to drag his eyes away from the fragile hope in Sam’s face. And, as he looked at Dean, he wondered what the eldest Winchester would do if he knew that you were the only thing that really mattered to Sam anymore. 

If he knew that you were the only thing that kept his little brother from eating a bullet. 

****

Crowley smiled as Sam, Dean and Cas entered the dungeon with sour faces. “Hello, boys.”

“Here's the deal,” Dean growled, “you're gonna tell us how to hack an angel, and I'm gonna give you some of the good stuff.” He held up a syringe of blood and patted his own arm. “Human blood, fresh from the tap. Word is you're jonesing for it.”

Crowley scoffed. “Please. I'll pass.”

“What do you want, then?” Sam growled as he took a step forward.

“Well, for starters ... a massage. Between the sitting and the shackles, a body gets a little stiff.”

“Yeah, I ain't rubbing you,” Dean said as he tucked the syringe away in his back pocket. 

“God, no,” Crowley said. “Get Kevin. His tiny fists can really work wonders –”

“Kevin is dead,” Cas said with a scowl.

“Oh. I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Don't pretend you care,” Cas snapped. “You tried to kill him.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I told him this was gonna happen. I was the only person who tried to warn him. I told him to run.”

“From what?” Dean said.

“You. How many times am I gonna have to say this? People in your general vicinity don't have much in the way of a life-span.”

Dean swallowed at those words and tried to remember that Crowley was just trying to get into his head. He wished you were there. You would know exactly what to say to make Crowley’s words seem like crap. You would know just how to make him feel worth something.

“Now, I can't teach you how to crack open an angel,” Crowley said. “It's more... art than science. But I can do it for you. All I ask in return is a little field trip. Dying for some fresh air.” He lifted his cuffed hands and smiled. “Chains on, naturally.”

Sam swallowed and Dean shook his head. “No.”

“No? Of course not. Because if I'm plan A, I'm sure you have a totally viable, much better plan B.”

Sam and Dean shared a look. Cas saw it and pulled them both to the side. “You can't be considering this,” he said.

“With the chains on, he can't do anything,” Sam said.

“It's Crowley. He can always do something.”

Crowley sighed heavily. “Moose, Squirrel, go get my little kitten, would you? She’ll talk sense into the angel.”

Sam and Dean’s masks slipped and the guilt in their faces practically glowed neon. 

“Unless ... unless, of course, you can't.” Crowley frowned. “What the bloody hell have you two monkey’s done to my daughter?”

“So you’ll help?” Sam said.

“Depends. Do we have a deal?”

Dean scoffed. “No. You want her back just as bad as we do.”

“Maybe. But at least I can go visit her in Hell.”

Sam scowled. “Y/N’s not going to Hell.”

“Well, she’s certainly not getting into Heaven. Not with her record. Don’t worry, I’ve got a VIP suite waiting for her. Strictly leisure. No torture. And definitely no Winchester visits.”

Dean’s upper lip curled in frustration. “Fine,” he growled. “We have a deal.”

"We’ll discuss Y/N’s afterlife at a later date,” Cas said in a chilling voice.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “When do we leave?”

“Soon as I can scrounge up a ride,” Dean said, giving a brief, mournful thought to his stolen Impala.

“Well, I have a vehicle,” Cas said. “It stopped a few miles from here, inexplicably.”

****

Gadreel felt worn and beaten when he sat on the bar-stool next to Metatron’s. You were leaning against the door of his mind, silently crying. Your grief came in waves and Gadreel couldn’t figure out if your heartbreak hurt him more than when you were just numb to everything. 

Nevertheless, he felt a sense of hope that you were trying to be as near to him as possible when he was in control of your body. The fact that you wanted comfort from him meant that you didn’t blame him for Kevin’s death. Although, and he dreaded to think about it, it could also mean that you’d shifted the blame to yourself. 

Gadreel put the duffel bag he’d taken from the bunker on the bar in front of Metatron.

Metatron unzipped it and smiled as he looked down at the tablets. “Welcome home, sweethearts.”

Gadreel caught sight of his vessel, the vessel that you knew him as, and felt an odd, foggy feeling in his mind.

“Strange seeing an old vessel, isn't it?” Metatron said. “Like looking in a funhouse mirror. But first things first – the tasks I gave you, any hiccups?”

“Killing Thaddeus was easy,” Gadreel said. “He had it coming.”

“I know all about your history. Why do you think I gave you his name? Consider it your signing bonus. And the kid?”

Gadreel swallowed and felt you raise your head. He sent a wave of comfort towards you and told Metatron the understatement of the millennium. “That was ... less easy.”

“He was a threat,” Metatron said, “but I flipped a switch upstairs, and now that Kevin is gone, there will be no more Prophets.” 

Gadreel clenched your teeth together but kept his calm.

“And what about Sam and Dean Winchester?” Metatron said.

You stood then, your fury returning tenfold, and Gadreel almost lost control of your body. Your physical hands clenched, though it wasn’t because he’d made them. He took a deep, calming breath and gave you his word that he would never harm the Winchesters.

He’d never thought about it, but after feeling your wave of anger at Metatron’s words, Gadreel knew that he could never harm the Winchesters if he ever wanted to be with you again. 

“You never gave me their names, Metatron,” Gadreel growled.

“Not much for seizing the initiative, are we? Gadreel, we are writing our own epic story here. To make that work, sometimes you have to kill your darlings. It's not like you haven't done worse before. And for a girl, no less. A girl that I’m sure you can’t even remember. I sure don’t.”

Gadreel gave Metatron a withering look, and this time it was him who clenched your hands into fists.

Metatron held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Sorry. Onto new business.” He slid a napkin across the bar to Gadreel. It had another name on it – Alexander Sarver. “Your next target.”

“How many more lives do I have to take?” Gadreel spat.

“It's not your place to ask questions. It is your place to obey. You want to be my second in command? Prove you're ready. Prove you're loyal. Or don't. Walk away. Go back to being Gadreel the traitor, the sap, heaven's longest-running joke.”

“That’s not who you are, Gadreel,” you said as you pressed your hand to the door. “Please, just stop this. I know you don’t want to work for him so just stop. Retrieve your vessel and come home with me. I can reason with Sam and Dean.”

“No, you can’t,” Gadreel said to you. “Not after Kevin. I’ve already caused too much suffering to turn back now.”

****

It turned out that digging into angels’ brains wasn’t the only help that Crowley had to offer. He had a source that could track down you and Gadreel. She worked in a financial association that turned out to be a front for an NSA listening post. And, as much as Cas and the boys didn’t approve, she did manage to track you to Somerset, Pennsylvania. 

They found the two of you in a house with a dead body – Alexander Sarver was the vessels name, but who the angel had been, none of them knew. 

When Cas managed to knock Gadreel out cold – because neither of the Winchesters could bear the thought of laying a hand on you – the angel melded his mind with yours, knowing it may be the last time he had a chance to do so for a while. 

You were sitting at the end of the pier – Gadreel found relief in that. He had expected you to attack him after he’d, once again, gone against your wishes and killed the angel that inhabited Alexander. He hadn’t taken Abner’s death lightly, so he was glad that you hadn’t pushed more guilt onto him with your grief.

“You killed Abner,” you said when he sat beside you. 

“I had no –”

“He was your friend, Gadreel.” You looked up at him. He expected to see accusation in your eyes but he only found pity. He didn’t know if that was worse. “You always have a choice.”

Gadreel lifted a hand and threaded his fingers through your hair. “I’m doing this – all of this – for you.”

“How do you think that makes me feel?” you said. Your eyes filled with tears again and he removed his hand, lest he cause you more pain. “How could you think that I can just get past this? That I would forget it all and just run off into the sunset with you in 70 or 80 years.”

“Because you would have done the same for the Winchester’s. You have done the same in past lives for many men and women. You’ve done the same for me.”

You scoffed. “So, I’m just some monster that’s been going around killing innocent people because their existence is inconvenient for me and the ones I love?”

Gadreel gave you a sad look but you were too busy staring out at the water. “No. You’re just … you love in a way that God never intended. And you inspire that love in others. You inspire loyalty.”

You shook your head and Gadreel knew that, no matter what he said, he wasn’t going to ease your guilt. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Gadreel said instead. “Sam and Dean have us now. They’re going to try and hurt me to bring you back. If they succeed, you’ll forget who I am and you’ll cast me out. You might even kill me. I don’t want that. I have to hide you away again. I don’t want you to experience the pain they’ll inflict.”

He expected an argument. Hoped for it, almost. Anything was better than this deflated, guilt-ridden woman you’d become. 

But all you did was sigh and say, “Do whatever you have to do. I just … I don’t care anymore.”

****

Sam had been through hell – literally and figuratively. He had been tortured by Lucifer himself. And yet, never had he felt pain as immense as the pain when he finally had you back, only to have you open your eyes and find someone else staring back at him. 

Your body was entirely restrained to a chair in the middle of a warehouse – chin strap and all – but it wasn’t you looking out of those eyes.

The same eyes that had cried for him and because of him. The same eyes that had held laughter and lust and adoration. The same eyes that he sought out when he felt like the entire world was against him. 

He looked into those eyes now and could find none of the comfort – none of the love – that he’d woken up to just the week before. 

He still remembered the first time he’d ever looked into your eyes. They were filled with secrets and amusement and he remembered feeling like you knew everything there was to know … and you were laughing at him because you knew he knew nothing. 

He hadn’t imagined then that you would be his wife – he hadn’t let himself believe such happiness existed for him – but he had known you were someone special. Deep down he had known, even then, that you would mean something to him.

That even if he’d never seen you again after that first day, he would never forget your eyes and the way they laughed at him. 

It took all of Sam’s willpower not to fall apart just then. He was sure that’s why Gadreel had chosen to stare at him. Because it didn’t take a genius to see that Sam was broken and you were the only thing still holding him together. 

Dean had a chance. He was still strong enough to walk away from this without you. It would destroy everything good in him, he would be a shell, but he would live.

Sam couldn’t do that. He’d known that since the day he left that asylum and convinced Dean to take you with him. The asylum had been the last straw for him. He had been prepared to die there. Dean thought he had given his brother hope but it had never been Dean.

It had been you. It had always been you. That year he’d lost you, he had gone into a sort of shock and tried to find you again in another woman but when he finally realised – when it had finally sunk in – that you were never coming back … well, he was lucky you and Dean had shown up in the cabin when you did.

But now he was right back in that position, and this time he was prepared. If you died that day, there was no going back to the bunker for him. He wouldn’t search for revenge. 

He already had the note in his pocket. If you lived, he’d burn it. If you died … he would leave it in the Impala for Dean to find, then he would pick a direction, walk one last mile and put a bullet through his head. 

“Cas, how we lookin'?” Dean said.

Sam drew in a deep breath and wrenched his eyes from yours at the sound of his brother’s voice. 

Cas stood by Dean’s side as he narrowed his eyes at the angel in your body. Sam wondered if he could even see your body or if you were just another angel to him now. 

“Most of Y/N's internal burns have healed,” Cas said. “I should be able to fix the rest.” He addressed the other angel next. “What's your name? I thought I knew every angel in heaven, but I've never seen you.”

“Why would I tell you anything?” the angel said.

Sam briefly closed his eyes and wondered if Dean felt the same pain he was feeling just then. Your voice had never sounded so cold and cruel. 

“Well, I don't give a damn who you are,” Dean growled. “You need to get out – now!”

“And if I don't?”

“Then you and I will have a lovely little playdate,” Crowley said.

Sam had almost forgotten he was there. He sat in a chair right across from you, collar still around his neck. 

“Even bound, I can rip this body apart,” the angel said. “Tell them, Castiel.”

“You do, you die,” Dean said.

He gave his little brother a sympathetic look and Sam realised he’d made a sound of desperate rebuttal at Dean’s words. 

“You want this to end?” the angel said. “Go ahead. Put a blade through your mate's heart.”

For a moment, Sam saw Dean’s mask slip. That was the only indication he had that this was the most difficult thing his brother had ever had to do.

“If it makes you feel better,” the angel said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle, “I have her locked away in a dream. As far as she knows, the two of you are working a case right now – something with ghouls and cheerleaders.” He stretched your lips into a smile and something about his tone and look spoke of a familiarity he had with you when he said, “She’s always liked cheerleaders.”

“Why are you doing this, huh?” Dean said. “We fought together. And I trusted you. I thought you were one of the good guys!”

Gadreel turned your expression back to the coldness it had been before. He held your head high with pride and said, “I am doing what I have to do.”

Dean swallowed and set his jaw in determination. “Well, so am I.”

He nodded at Crowley and the moment the demon stood and picked up a long, thick needle from the nearby tray, Sam turned on his heels and started towards the exit.

“I’m not watching this,” he mumbled.

“Sam!” Dean said. 

Sam ignored him but when Dean caught up to him at the large sliding door and wrapped a hand around his arm, Sam turned and shoved Dean back. Tears ran hot down his face.

“No, Dean,” he said. “I am not going to stand there and watch Crowley … torture my wife.”

The empathy in Dean’s eyes should have brought Sam some sort of comfort but it only seemed to piss him off more.

“Sammy, that’s not –”

“It is, Dean! It’s still her,” Sam said. Dean’s eyes welled up and his throat worked to swallow the tears back. “Can you really not see that?”

When Dean said nothing, Sam left. He went back to the Impala and shut himself inside so he couldn’t hear your screams. And yet, they still vibrated through his bones as though he were somehow physically connected to you.

He might not have been able to hear you but every time you screamed his hands flexed and goose bumps riddled his body as a fresh wave of sobs thickened his throat. 

Back in the warehouse, after at least an hour (though it felt like far longer) the screams and the pain in your eyes finally pushed Dean out of the room. 

“I can't watch that anymore,” Dean said when Cas followed him.

“I understand,” Cas said. “It's not Y/N, but ... it's still Y/N.

Dean’s voice cracked with emotion as he said, “Pretty much, yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and it came away wet with tears. “How are you doing?”

“You want to talk about me? Now?” Cas said in surprise.

Dean turned to him. “I want to talk about anything that's not a demon sticking needles into my wife's brain.” He looked out the small window that illuminated the hall he stood in. Tears pooled in his eyes again. He sniffed. “Yeah, humour me, man. How you doing?”

“Uh ... I'm okay.”

Dean nodded. “Good. Good. That's, uh ... so, what, you just change the batteries out, power back up? It's that easy?”

Cas pressed his lips together. “It wasn't easy, but I didn't have a choice.”

“Yeah. Well, that's usually how it goes.” Dean squeezed his eyes shut when another of your shrieks echoed through the warehouse, and Cas sent a distressed look your way. “Cas ... I'm sorry,” he said when it died away.

“About what?”

“Kickin' you out of the bunker. That's, uh ... you know, not telling you about Y/N.”

“You thought her life was at stake,” Cas said.

“Yeah,” Dean scoffed. “I got played.”

“I thought I was saving Heaven. I got played, too.”

Dean gave him a weak smile. “So you're sayin' we're both a couple of dumbasses?”

Cas gave him a gentle smile in return. “I prefer the word ‘trusting’. Less dumb. Less ass.”

Dean chuffed at hearing your words come out of Cas’s mouth. You always knew just what to say, and he knew those were the exact words you would have said if you’d been there.

“Laverne! Shirley!” Crowley called. “Get in here!”

****

“His name’s Gadreel?” Sam said with a sniff as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

Dean’s face was gentle as he looked at his brother leaning against the passenger door of the Impala. Sam looked … ruined, for lack of a better word. His face was blotchy; his eyes were puffy. There were tear stains covering his cheeks and snot setting around the collar of his shirt. 

Dean so badly wanted to give in and let all his emotions take over. He wanted to fall to his knees and weep but he had to stay strong for Sammy. He had to stay strong for you. 

The only time he ever allowed himself to give in to the pressure – to give in to the urge to sob – was when he was in the safety of your arms.

You were the only one he’d ever felt safe enough around to be that vulnerable with. But you weren’t there just then. Not yet. Dean vowed that when he finally got you back – when the night came that he would finally get to settle into bed with you and all had been forgiven and taken care of – he would curl up against you and let you hold him while he shook with all the sobs he’d let build up. 

But right now … right now Sam needed him. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Cas is pretty pissed about it. Apparently he’s the guy that let Lucifer into the Garden of Eden. For a chick, no less.” Dean chuffed lightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. “What a dick, right?”

Sam looked at him. There was no amusement in his eyes. Only misery. “Like we wouldn’t do worse for Y/N?”

Dean dragged his bottom lip through his teeth and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Sam’s eyes dropped back to the ground. Dean thought he might have started crying again if he wasn’t all dried up. “Look, man, I know how hard this is. Trust me, it may not look like it … but this is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, okay? This is necessary, Sammy. We gotta get our baby back. I just … I can’t … we gotta … Crow-Crowley’s going to possess her in exchange for us letting him go.”

Sam’s head snapped up. “What?” He pushed off the car, anger darkening his eyes.

Dean held his hands up. “It’s our last option, Sam. She’s like a daughter to him. He’s not going to hurt her. He’s just going to wake her up and clue her in so she can expel Gadreel.”

“And you trust him?” Sam yelled.

“With her life? Yeah, Sammy. I trust him with her life. She’s the only thing in this world he won’t hurt. So … are you coming in, or what?”” 

Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he paced away from Dean. He turned back suddenly. “You know what’s going to happen after this, right?” Dean gave him a confused frown. “If she survives this, do you have any idea what’s going to happen to her?”

Dean held his hands out to his sides. “She’ll be pissed. I know –”

“No, you don’t know, Dean. She not just going to be pissed. She’s going to relapse. Again.” Dean swallowed and ducked his head in shame but Sam didn’t pull his punches. “And it’s not going to be like those times she just got tired and – and depressed. She’s going to go back to what she was when you found her on that bathroom floor … with an empty pill bottle, lying in her own vomit.”

Dean flinched at the words but Sam didn’t care. He wanted his brother to hurt. To yell. To do something other than treat you like another case. Dean needed to know what the true repercussions of their actions were going to be. 

Because you dying was the best case scenario.

****

You sighed, your head heavy in your hand as you flicked through a lore book in the bunker library. Sam squeezed your shoulder and planted a kiss on your temple as he passed you by to head into the kitchen.

“I mean, it just doesn't make any sense,” you called out. “Why is this ghoul only chomping on dead cheerleaders?”

“Hey, you want a beer, baby?!” Dean called from the kitchen.

“No, I'm fine.”

“Not bad.” You looked up in confusion at the sound of the rough voice, only to jump from your chair in shock when you saw Crowley standing there, shackle free.

“Uh, how the hell did you get out?” you said. Crowley smiled and held his hands out to his sides. “Sammy? Dean?”

“Poughkeepsie.”

You frowned and gave him a curious look. “How do you know that word?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Because Sam and Dean sent me, kitten, the real Sam and Dean. I'll make this quick – you've been possessed by an angel. He's got you packed away in some dusty corner of your own mind, and I'm here to break you out.”

He gestured for you to follow him but you gave him a smile of disbelief. “Seriously?”

Crowley sighed. “Fine. We'll do this the fun way.” 

Before you could make sense of what he’d said, he picked up Dean’s gun from the table and shot you in the chest. You cried out and your entire body shook in shock … until you realised you weren’t even bleeding let alone dying.

You probed at the hole with your fingers – nothing. You looked back up at Crowley.

“See?” Crowley said. “Not real. Like I said. I know how possession works, kitten. You've seen everything that he's seen, even if you can't remember. That's what I need you to do. I need you to remember.”

You had a flash of memory – a hospital bed, with you in it. There’s Dean – a broken Dean. Sam crying. Kevin dying … and then everything came back to you. Gadreel and the pier … everything he’d told you … you remembered it all. 

When your mind finally cleared, your hands were gripping the back of the chair you’d been sitting in. You looked to Crowley, only to straighten when you saw Gadreel come up behind him.

“Oh, bollocks,” Crowley muttered when he realised why you must be staring over his head. 

He turned and looked up at Gadreel. The angel sneered down at him.

“Stop, Gadreel,” you said as you took a step towards them. He looked up at you, shocked that you knew his name. “I remember everything. Even the pier. It’s safe for you to leave, now.”

Gadreel shook his head. “No. It’s not. I told you, little one, you can’t reason with the Winchester’s.” Crowley gave you a curious glance at the conversation, drawing Gadreel’s attention. The angel’s lip lifted in a sneer again. “You should be running.”

Crowley ran his tongue over his front teeth as he thought for a moment. The shock of seeing him punch Gadreel in the next second actually made you jump. 

Gadreel’s head snapped to the side. He dabbed at his bottom lip with his fingers before his face twisted in anger. He hurled Crowley over the table before throwing it to the side to approach the demon. When Gadreel began kicking him in the ribs, you sprang into action. 

Gadreel grunted in surprise when he hit the ground with you on top of him.

“You have to leave,” you said as you pinned his hands above his head.

Gadreel flipped the two of you easily. He wasn’t about to let you have the upper hand now, not when you were blind to what the Winchester’s would do when you were finally separated from him. 

In desperation, he pinned your own hands above your head and growled, “You don’t understand –”

“I do!” you said. “I do, Gadreel. I won’t let them kill you. And I promise … I won’t forget you. Run. I’ll find you again – when I can make them understand, I’ll find you.”

****

Gadreel’s light was blinding as he exited your body. Crowley followed not long after and then you were coming too with a pained gasp. 

Cas didn’t let either of the brothers near you until he had the needles out of your head and the wounds healed.

Even then, there had been no time for a reunion. Car lights suddenly shone through the back window. After further inspection from Cas, it turned out to be Abaddon and two of her minions. 

“Go,” Crowley said. “The back door. I'll handle this.”

“Oh, 'cause you're such a good guy?” Dean growled.

“Dean,” you said weakly. 

Dean looked at you and stood down when you shook your head. He didn’t exactly have the right to argue against your wishes just then. 

You leaned heavily against Sam and looked back at the demon. “Crowley …”

“Yes, I know, kitten. I love you, too. Now would one of you idiots get her out of here?”

Dean scowled at the demand but Sam didn’t hesitate. He scooped you up in his arms. You groaned in protest but a few murmured words in your ear had your head falling against his shoulder.

****

You were leaning against the railing of a long dock. It was dark and you were shivering in the rain but every time one of the brother’s tried to give you one of their jackets you gave them a withering look and they stepped back. 

You figured Cas assumed he would receive the same response so he didn’t bother trying to give you his coat. Instead, he stepped up and passed his healing light over you again.

“You feel better?” he said when he stepped back.

“A little, yeah,” you murmured.

“It'll take time to fully heal you. We'll have to do it in stages.”

You nodded and gave him a thankful smile. It felt away when Dean got up the nerve to approach you.

“Alright. Let me hear it,” he said.

You frowned. “What you do want me to say – that I'm pissed? Okay. I am. I'm pissed. You lied to me.” You looked at Sam and growled, “Both of you.”

Sam ducked his head and took another step back. He was never easy to fight with – he wouldn’t try to justify his actions. But Dean would so you looked back at him with accusation in your eyes. 

“We didn't have a choice,” Dean said.

“I was ready to die, Dean!” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

“I know. But I wouldn't let you because you’re my wife and I couldn’t let that happen.”

You scoffed. “So, what? You decide to trick me into being possessed by an angel?”

“He saved your life.”

“So what? I was willing to die.” Dean swallowed and ducked his head briefly but forced it back up to look you in the eye. “And now ... Kevin ...” Your eyes filled with tears just thinking about him.

“No. That is not on you,” Dean said, misinterpreting your guilt. “Kevin's blood is on my hands, and that ain't ever getting clean. I'll burn for that. I will. But I'll find Gadreel. And I will end that son of a bitch. But I'll do it alone.”

You opened your mouth to tell him to stay far away from Gadreel but then his words hit you. He would do it alone?

You pushed off the railing. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, baby,” he said softly as his eyes filled with tears. “Can't you see? I'm ... I'm poison, Y/N. People get close to me, they get killed ... or worse. You know, I tell myself that I-I – I help more people than I hurt. And I tell myself that I'm – I'm doing it all for the right reasons, and I – I believe that. But I can't – I won't … drag anybody through the muck with me. Not anymore.”

He gave you a pleading look, as though expecting to fight you on this but you had no fight left in you. Tears rolled down your cheeks but you were just … so angry.

You were so angry at him for taking the coward’s way out. For choosing to abandon you just because times were getting tough. 

“Then go,” you snapped. “I'm not gonna stop you.” 

Sam looked up in shock at those words and Dean’s face crumbled. 

“Baby …” he said as he stepped forward. 

He had been planning on leaving, sure, but he had hoped that you would at least want him to stay. The fact that you weren’t even going to fight for him to stay made him think that maybe this was his last strike with you. That maybe you were done with him.

That he wouldn’t be able to come home to you when he was done doing what he had to do.

He reached up to cup your face but you shoved him away as your tears fell harder and your voice thickened with the sobs you were trying to hold back.

“Just leave!” you said. “But don't go thinking that's the problem, 'cause it's not.”

“Baby, please. Don’t –”

“I said go.” You turned your eyes away from him, unwilling to see the absolute misery in his face. The moment you heard his boots fall against the dock as he walked away is when the first sob escaped your throat.

Sam watched his brother leave without looking back and wondered how it didn’t kill Dean to do it. When he heard your sob, he stepped forward and reached out to you. 

“Y/N …”

“Do you want to leave, too?” you growled as you looked up at him.

Sam’s hand recoiled at the fury and betrayal in your eyes. He shook his head. “No. Please, I don’t … please don’t make me leave, Y/N.”

He wasn’t like his brother. He’d fall to his knees and beg you if he had too. He’d accept you being angry at him for the rest of your life. He’d accept anything … just as long as you didn’t make him leave.


	41. First Born Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Dean gone and Sam tip-toeing around you, you set yourself to the task of finding Gadreel with Castiel. Meanwhile, Dean is forced to team up with Crowley to track down the First Blade in an effort to win you back. But when the trail leads him to someone he never expected, he discovers something about you that tips his entire world upside down.

You sat in the chair next to Castiel, your feet up on the control table as you watched him with a halfway amused expression.

His face was twisted in disgust as he chewed down a bite of his PB and J sandwich. You chuckled as he let it fall back to his plate.

“Tastes like ... molecules,” he said.

You chuffed. “What does that even mean?”

He looked at you with a pout. “When I was human, you know, I had to eat constantly. It was kind of annoying.”

You pressed your lips together as you thought about your current situation with the brothers. “Yeah, a lot of human things are pretty annoying.”

“But ... I enjoyed the taste of food -- particularly peanut butter with grape jelly, not jam. Jam I found unsettling.”

You let your legs fall from the table and straightened. “So, what? Now you can't taste PB and J?” you said as you pulled apart his sandwich and dipped your finger into the jelly.

“No, I-I taste every molecule,” he said as he watched you suck your finger into your mouth.

You sighed. “Not the sum of its parts, huh?”

“It's overwhelming. It's disgusting.” He looked down at the sandwich. “I miss you, PB and J.”

Your body tensed at the sound of the bunker door opening and closing. You stood as Sam came trudging down the steps with a couple of grocery bags. 

When he reached the bottom, he froze for a moment when he caught sight of you. 

Castiel, clearly feeling the tension, cleared his throat as he stood up and looked at you. 

 

“We need to continue your healing,” he said. “We're almost done.”

You pressed your lips together and sighed through your nose but leaned against the table so Cas could do what he wanted. You tried not to listen to the sound of Sam’s boots hitting the floor as he approached the table.

His steps were hesitant and you hated that the two of you had come to this. That he was scared to piss you off.

You told Dean to leave because he wanted to, and you didn’t want the eldest Winchester to see how much that hurt you. But Sam … he didn’t want to leave you. And you didn’t have it in your heart to force him out anyway.

The truth of the matter is, you wanted both the Winchesters in the bunker with you just then. You didn’t care if you were all angry beyond belief. You didn’t care if you spent every second of every day fighting. You just wanted the three of you together. 

You knew in your heart you wouldn’t stay mad at them forever. There were things that needed to be talked about. And the relationship needed to be re-evaluated. Hell, you weren’t even sure if a relationship was a good idea after what Gadreel had told you. 

But even if you decided to end it … you knew you could never leave the Winchester’s behind. You’d tried that once before and you hadn’t lasted a month. And that was long before you had an established relationship with the both of them. 

You glanced up at Castiel as he laid two fingers against your forehead. His face was filled with worry.

You frowned. “What?”

Cas hesitated. “N-Nothing.”

“You're a terrible liar,” Sam growled as you pushed the angel’s hand away.

Sam’s worry was enough to make you a little scared for a moment. Then you remembered that his concern would be blown out of proportion.

After everything that happened … you half expected him to have a heart attack if you even cut your hand open.

“That is not true,” Cas said in indignation as he looked at Sam. “I once deceived and betrayed both you and your brother.” He gave you a guilty glance. “And Y/N.”

“Okay, that's not the point,” you said. “Cas, what's wrong?”

He gave you a hesitant look. “I noticed something. It's, uh ... it's resonating inside you. Something angelic.”

“Okay, uh, what the hell does that mean?”

Cas pressed his lips together and looked between the two of you. “Maybe we should call Dean.”

You rolled your eyes and snapped, “No.”

Sam’s eyes dropped to the ground and you could see that he was waiting for you to lash out at him. It made sense, you always lashed out at Dean but that was because Dean was easy to fight with. He took the bait every time. 

But Sam … it was like beating a puppy whenever you lashed out at him. 

You couldn’t deal with that guilt right now so you lowered yourself back into your chair and softened your voice. “He wanted to go, and he's gone. We'll handle this.”

Sam and Cas shared a look before they sat around the control table with you.

Twenty minutes of research ended up feeling like hours. Sam’s eyes were constantly on you. You knew that he wanted to talk about what happened but you were still too riled up about Dean to give him the time of day. 

Not to mention, you didn’t want to forgive Sam just yet. And you knew if he started begging for forgiveness … you’d give it to him. 

His mistake was easy to forgive because his mistake was that he loved you too much to let you go without a fight. And as much as you wanted to be angry about that … you couldn’t be. You couldn’t even be angry at Dean for letting Gadreel in. Because, at the end of the day, you would have done the same thing. 

And therein is where the problem laid. Because you wouldn’t have just done the same thing … you would have done worse. 

Gadreel said it himself: you would have killed Kevin if he ever got in between you and the brothers. 

And being on that dock, listening to Dean berate himself for being a poisonous human being … yeah, you’d been pissed that he’d given up. Yeah, you’d been pissed that he believed those things about himself. But the longer you thought about it, the more you realised he’d described you to a tee. 

If Dean thought he was bad – if he thought he was poisonous – then he really didn’t understand what his own wife was capable of. 

And what you were capable of is exactly what terrified you.

It was the core of your anger. 

Being with the Winchesters had shown you all the worst parts of yourself. It had shown you that you were just as much a monster as your parents had been. 

And you knew it was because of what they’d done to you. They tainted you. Made you dirty. You couldn’t understand why the Winchester’s would want to touch you.

Couldn’t they see how dirty you were? Couldn’t they see the monster you were becoming?

You could feel your skin crawl in all the places your father had touched you. Your stomach churned in nausea and you knew it was because of the darkness he’d put inside of you. 

He was long gone but the darkest parts of him – the cruellest parts – were still in you. They had twisted and melded with your body until they were you. Until you could hardly find any part that wasn’t spoiled by him.

You were nothing but a rotting carcass pretending to be something you never were. You’d died a long time ago, so why were you still here? 

“I've found, well, something,” Cas said as he walked back into the control room, a book open in his hands.

You couldn’t remember him leaving the room in the first place. And as you came back to yourself, a sting in your thighs had you looking down. You swallowed as you pulled your hands away to reveal fingernail marks. Some of them were bleeding, others just had the skin torn from them. 

“What did you find?’ Sam said as he spared a worried glance for you. 

He couldn’t see what you’d done to your legs but then, he didn’t have to. He just had to look at your face to know something was wrong. To know that you were going downhill. 

“It's a detail about when angels leave their vessels,” Cas said. “I think. It's, uh, Enochian, which can be a bit flowery. ‘And the departed shall remain, and the remains shall be the departed’.”

You looked up at Cas and you couldn’t help but feel like your movements were too sluggish. 

“Okay,” Sam said, “so when an angel leaves a vessel, they leave behind a piece of themselves. Like, uh ... like an angelic fingerprint.”

“Whatever you want to call it, this piece of the departed contains Grace.”

“Wait,” you said, “you're saying there's angelic Grace inside of me?”

Your words felt like they were coming out of your mouth far too slow. But your heart was beating far too hard against your chest. Your ribs hurt with the force of it.

“Yes. But it's fading each time I heal you.”

“Okay. Is that good or bad?” Sam said as he gave you another worried glance.

“Well, it's harmless,” Cas said, still oblivious to what was happening before him. “But the Grace itself ... might be helpful.” He set down the book he was holding and picked up the file he was reading earlier. “According to this, we may be able to use the Grace that remains inside you to track Gadreel. If we can extract it.”

You grimaced as your heart palpitated again. “How would we do that?” you said.

“Well ... painfully,” Cas said as he pulled a picture from the file and held it up. It was a large syringe with a needle at least four inches long. “The Men of Letters believed that you could perform a tracking spell with extracted Grace, but they were never able to test the theory.”

Cas frowned as he looked back down at you. You slid your chair back and braced your hands against the table as you bowed your head. 

The moment you started wheezing, Sam was out of his chair and kneeling in front of you.

Cas stepped forward in worry. “What’s happening? Is she alright?”

“She’s having a panic attack,” Sam said as he forced you to straighten up and look at him. He cupped your face in his hands.

“I … I can’t … breathe,” you said.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be alright. Just take a deep breath in and let it out nice and slow.”

You tried to do what he said but shook your head when you couldn’t get your lungs to play along.

“Come on, Y/N. We’ve done this before, remember? You can do it. Big breath in. Let it out slow.” 

He demonstrated his own instructions by drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He did it over and over again until, finally, you were able to do it too.

“Good girl,” Sam said with a small smile as your body began to relax in his arms. 

You breathed out a sigh of relief as you fell forward against him. His arms went around you as you buried your face in his neck and breathed him in. 

You sat there for, what seemed like, forever – Sam would have sat there happily if it was the case. But then Cas’s fingers were brushing against your shoulder and you straightened to find him standing beside you and Sam.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” he said.

You gave him a reassuring smile and stood so you could step away from the feel of Sam’s hands on your body. 

“I’m okay, Cas. Thanks. What do you say we go test this theory of yours, huh?”

****

Dean had been drowning his sorrows in a bar when Crowley found him. He would have killed the demon if it weren’t for the annoying little fact that he was basically your dad. 

Somehow, Dean didn’t think that killing Crowley was the best way to get back into your good books. 

In fact, Dean had no idea how to get back into your good books. Your face haunted him every night. The way you’d looked at him on the dock when he said he was leaving. 

His heart broke when you’d told him you weren’t going to stop him. 

He realised now that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. But he couldn’t go back. Not now. Not like this – drunk, heartbroken and mourning over the picture he had of you in his wallet. 

He couldn’t go back with nothing but apologies in his hands and expect you to take him back. 

He’d tried tracking down Gadreel but he had no leads. Nowhere to start. And then Crowley had made an appearance, telling a story about how the archangels used a weapon called the First Blade to kill the Knights of Hell back in the day.

He told a story about how John had nabbed one of Crowley’s demons just before the minion could finish tracking down the blade.

Killing Abaddon seemed like the perfect plan to get you back. 

Reading through John’s journal had led him and Crowley to a storage unit, which then led them to a pawn shop and a woman by the name of Tara.

Tara reminded Dean so much of you that he couldn’t help but wonder if he and his dad had more in common than personality traits. Like maybe … their taste in women.

But then, Dean was so desperate to have you back, he felt like he was seeing you everywhere he turned. 

He was working with the King of Hell, for Christ’s sake. If that didn’t show he was desperate, he didn’t know what would.

It turned out that Tara had a partial tracking spell for the First Blade, and when Crowley completed it with his own ingredients, it led Dean to an old farmhouse in Springfield, Missouri. 

“Wait,” Crowley said as he and Dean met at the front of the Impala to head up to the farmhouse.

“What?” Dean growled as he stopped in his tracks and looked back at him.

“I'm feeling something.”

Dean rolled his eyes and wondered, not for the first time, how it was that you put up with Crowley. “What, cramps?”

He turned to start walking but stopped again when Crowley grabbed the sleeve of his coat. “I feel something dark.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Crowley’s hand until he let go. “Darker than you?”

Crowley rolled his eyes and opened his mouth with a retort ready on his tongue when he noticed a man in a beekeeper suit tending to beehives over by the house.

Crowley swallowed. “Oh, no. We need to leave here now.”

Dean frowned as he glanced towards the man. “What, are you allergic to bees?”

“That's not a beekeeper,” Crowley ground out through clenched teeth. “That's the father of murder.”

“Sorry. Who?”

Crowley let out a frustrated sound and looked at Dean. “It's Cain.”

“As in Cain and Abel?”

“Dean. We need to be a world away from here -- from him.”

Crowley turned on his heel then and ran smack-bang into Cain who’d suddenly appeared behind him. 

Cain pulled off his beekeeper’s mask. “You're not going anywhere. Crowley.”

****

Dean walked about Cain’s living room with a scowl etched on his face – a scowl that only ever went away for you – while Crowley sat on the couch practically shaking.

Dean didn’t get it. He’d seen Crowley scared before but he’d never seen him cowering in a corner – and he’d gone up against you on a bad day. 

“Why don't you just zap out of here?” Dean said. 

“I'd never leave my domestic partner in crime,” Crowley said.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, like your heart grew three sizes. You can't zap out of here, can you?”

Crowley sighed through his nose and glanced towards the kitchen entryway. “Cain's doing something to me.”

“Well, it's not your day for getaways, is it? Alright, so, tell me about this Cain.”

“Well, after Cain killed Abel, he became a demon.”

Dean frowned and looked back at him. “What do you mean ‘became a demon’?”

“I mean he became the deadliest demon to walk the face of the earth. Killed thousands. The best at being the worst. And then he just ... disappeared. Everyone thought he was dead or, at least, hoped he was.”

Cain entered then with a tea tray and Dean’s frown deepened as he watched Crowley cower down on the couch.

“Do either of you keep bees?” Cain said in an oddly pleasant voice. “It's very relaxing. They're such noble creatures. And the honey? Well, I keep it right on the comb.”

He set the tray down on the coffee table in front of Crowley before sinking down into his own armchair across from him. 

Crowley took the cup Cain handed him with a smile but his hands shook in fright as he brought it to his mouth, causing the cup to rattle against its saucer. 

Dean perched on the edge of the couch next to Crowley with a roll of his eyes and took the cup that Cain handed him.

“They're dying, you know,” Cain said. “Without bees, mankind will cease to exist. So, what are the King of Hell and a Winchester doing at my house?”

“You know who we are?”

“I'm retired. I'm not dead.” Cain dropped his eyes down to the tea tray for a moment with a blank stare. “I’ve heard all about your wife too,” he said, almost whimsically. 

As though the thought of you somehow reminded him of someone. Or worse, as though he knew you. Dean didn’t like that. It made him shift in his seat with discomfort.

Cain’s eye lifted to him suddenly. “What I don't know is why you're looking for me -- more importantly, how you found me.”

Crowley swallowed and lifted a shaky hand to grab Cain’s attention. “Ah, that's, uh, a funny story, really. Bit of a misunderstanding. We really should –” 

Cain lifted a finger to his lips and shushed him. Crowley was literally rendered speechless. He opened his mouth but only managed to force out a croak.

“Oh, you gotta teach me how to do that,” Dean said.

“Why are you here, Dean?” Cain said.

Dean looked back at him and had an odd thought that Cain’s unwavering patience would annoy the hell out of you. Even if it got the two of you in trouble, he wished you were there to piss Cain off with your smart mouth. 

Of course, Sammy would try to diffuse the situation while Dean sat back and tried not to laugh … but that was the beauty of the three of you being together.

You were all so different and yet those differences fit together perfectly. 

As cliché as it sounded, Dean couldn’t help but feel like the three of you were puzzle pieces that were made to fit together.

“We're looking for the weapon the archangels used to kill the Knights of Hell,” Dean said as he tried to force his mind back to the situation at hand. “The First Blade. We need it to kill a Knight of Hell -- Abaddon.” Dean noticed Cain absentmindedly twist the ring on his left ring-finger. “Look, I get it. You're retired. We're not here to get between you and the demonic AARP, but it's bad out there, and I'm just looking to even the odds.”

“One last time -- how did you find me?” Cain said.

Dean found it unnerving that Cain continued to stare at him. He didn’t think the man had blinked.

“We didn't,” Dean said. “The location spell was for the blade. One-time deal.”

Cain thought on that for a moment though his expression didn’t change, nor did he shift his eyes from Dean.

“Anyone else know you're here?” he finally said.

Dean shook his head and said, without a hitch in his breath, “No.”

Tara wasn’t going to cause Cain any trouble, what was the point in dragging her into this?

Cain drew in a deep breath and shifted his eyes from Dean as he stood from his chair and started towards the kitchen once more. 

“Well, it's been a pleasure having company,” he said, “but once a century is enough for me. You can let yourselves out.”

“Hey, listen, pal,” Dean growled as he stood and followed him. “We're not leaving here without the Blade.”

Cain stopped just before the entryway and turned back with a smile and shake of his head. “You have quite a reputation, Dean. I see the part about you being brave rings true.” He dropped his eyes for a moment as the smile fell from his face. Then he lifted them again and said, “It’s no wonder that your wife found her way to you and your brother.” There was something like a sad acceptance in his eyes. 

That, mixed with the way he’d mentioned you earlier, didn’t sit well with Dean.

“Don’t talk about my wife like you know her,” Dean growled.

The corner of Cain’s mouth quirked up but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I know more than you think.”

Dean ground his teeth together and tried to think what you would do if you were here. If you were in a bad mood, you’d probably go head to head with Cain. If you weren’t … you’d slide your hand under Dean’s shirt onto the skin of his back and look up at him. He would look down at you and see something in your eyes. Something that told him it was okay to back away from a fight sometimes. It was okay to choose his battles. He didn’t have to fight Cain on this because, in the end, it would gain him nothing.

Dean blew out a sigh through his nose and shook his head. He ignored the knowing look in Cain’s eyes and said, “Abaddon is the last Knight of Hell, and if you're out of the game, what the hell do you care if she dies?”

Cain nodded towards where Crowley had now stood and was standing by the couch. “If your friend here could talk, he would tell you that I trained the Knights of Hell. I built that entire demonic order with my own hands -- Abaddon included.”

Dean turned to give Crowley an indignant look. “Well, that is information I could have used five minutes ago,” he growled.

Crowley croaked and motioned towards his mouth in frustration. Dean turned back to Cain with a tick in his jaw.

“Well, here's something your friend doesn't know,” Cain said, “that no one knows, in fact -- outside of Abaddon. It wasn't the archangels that slaughtered the knights. It was me.”  
Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why did you turn on your own?”

Cain pressed his lips together a moment and took a deep breath. “Once again, I admire your bravery. But if you'll excuse me, I have errands to run in town.” He turned his back on Dean. “Goodbye, Dean Winchester ... never return.”

Much to Dean’s dismay, as soon as he and Crowley left the house, the demon had his voice back. 

“Well, that was lovely,” Crowley said as he walked with Dean back to the Impala. “Can we leave the country now?”

“But you said the First Blade was our only shot at killing Abaddon,” Dean said. “This is the closest you've been to it. We're not leaving.”

Crowley sighed. “Will you listen to reason for once?”

“Hey,” Dean growled as he reached the driver’s side of his car. “He said he was going into town. Awesome. We wait till he's gone, come back, bust in, take what's ours. Got it?”

****

Sam had left the bunker after many failed attempts at trying to talk you out of extracting the grace from your body. When he realised that nothing he said was going to change your mind, he grabbed his coat and left. He said he’d be back by nightfall but he just couldn’t watch you put yourself in danger like that. 

Of course, before he left, Cas was given a very stern lecture. Under no circumstances was he allowed to push you too far. Sam didn’t care if you begged or threatened or both … Cas wasn’t allowed to put you in danger. 

Cas had, wisely, agreed to Sam’s rules and kept the conversation to himself as he helped you track down the needle. 

By the time you’d found it, Sam had been gone for an hour and you seemed in a reasonable enough mood for Cas to bring up a topic he’d been tip-toeing around.

“Y/N, may I ask you a question?” Cas said as he walked down the stairs into the main room with you.

You smiled as the two of you reached the bottom. “You just did.”

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Well, technically, you -- yeah, go ahead. What's up?”

Cas stopped in the doorway of the hall and you stopped with him.

“Y/N, the trials,” he started. “You chose not to go through with them for a reason, didn't you? You chose to live rather than to sacrifice yourself. You and Sam and Dean ... you chose each other.”

It was clear that you didn’t want to talk about it but you replied, “Yeah, I did. We did. And then ... Sam and Dean made a choice for me.”

You stalked off down the hall towards the medical room and Cas followed. “What Sam and Dean did –”

“It doesn't matter what they did,” you said in frustration as you entered the medical room and turned to him. “Look, I could have put a stop to all this, Cas. I could have closed the gates of hell.”

Cas sighed and gave you a look of pity. “Y/N …”

“Dean's gone, okay? And Sam doesn’t want to help. This is on me now, and if I can find Gadreel ...” 

You trailed off, unsure of how to tell him that you used to be an angel, you were technically older than he was, and your ex-boyfriend was the psycho angel you were currently trying to track down. Somehow, you didn’t think that would go down well. Not to mention, Cas wasn’t exactly the first person who had a right to know any of it. If Sam and Dean found out you’d told Cas before them …

You let out a frustrated sigh. “I need to find him. I can fix this.” You set the box you were carrying onto the table next to the gurney you were about to climb up into. “Now ... being a human means settling your debts.” You opened the box and pulled out the syringe before turning to Cas and handing it to him. “Let's start balancing the books.”

You climbed up into the gurney and 10 minutes later you were demanding that Cas stick the needle in deeper when he said he wasn’t getting enough of the grace out. 

Cas sighed as he thought back to what Sam had told him.

“She’s on a self-destructive streak. She’s punishing herself and she’ll do anything to cause herself physical pain. You can’t let that happen Cas. She won’t listen to me right now … so, it’s up to you,” Sam had said. 

But as Cas looked down at miniscule amount of grace in the syringe, he thought back to when he’d first met the Winchester’s – not long after he’d been rehabilitated (thanks to his little visits to you). Back then, he would have done anything to do what was necessary for the greater good. 

So why didn’t he just do that now? He knew you could handle it. So … against Sam’s wishes, he pushed the needle a little deeper and pulled up the plunger. 

Your body arched off the gurney as you cried out. Flashes of memory blinded you. Memories of what happened when Gadreel inhabited your body. 

You gasped when it stopped and you slumped back down into the gurney. “What the hell was that?”

Cas pressed his lips together in guilt. “Your body is regressing to the state it was in before Gadreel.”

“Do we have enough Grace for the summoning spell?”

“Y/N.”

“Do we or not, Cas?” He shook his head. “Then keep going.”

He did. Telling himself once again that you could handle it. That it was necessary. 

After another gruelling 10 minutes, you were well on your way to passing out.

“Y/N? Y/N?!” Cas said urgently when you didn’t respond.

Finally, your brows furrowed and you groaned before you said, “Keep going.”

Cas sighed. He couldn’t understand why humans did this. Why you did this. Didn’t you understand how important you were?

“Why?” he said.

“I -- I -- I have to find Gadreel. I promised … him.”

Cas frowned at your choice of words but said, “No,” as he began withdrawing the needle. “Why must the Winchester’s run toward death?”

You reached up and, with what strength you had left, wrapped your hand around the syringe to stop it from moving. “No, don't. Don't. Don't stop.”

Cas pressed his lips together and gave you a sad look. “Y/N, when I was human, I died, and that showed me that life is precious, and it must be protected at all costs, even a life as... as pig-headed as a Winchester's.”

Your voice was heartbreakingly weak when you said, “My life's not worth any more than anyone else's -- not yours or Dean's or Sam’s ... or Kevin's. Please. Please, help me do one thing right. Keep going.”

And Cas did what you asked because he knew what it felt like to want to make things right. It wasn’t until he saw blood seeping from your nose that he realised how wrong he’d been to push you this far. 

How stupid he’d been to not listen to Sam. 

Because you weren’t doing this to make things right … you were doing this to punish yourself.

He realised then that Dean had been right in making Cas bury his feelings for you. Because Cas didn’t deserve you. He couldn’t be what you needed him to be.

Despite your history, he would never know you the way Sam and Dean knew you. He could never protect you the way Sam and Dean could protect you.

Cas may have wanted you. But you didn’t need him. You needed the Winchester’s. 

“Hold on. This may pinch,” Cas said as he withdrew the needle from your neck. 

You groaned in pain but you were too out of it to protest against anything he was doing. 

Cas pressed his fingers to your forehead and you gasped as he healed you. The blood faded away and you sat up and pressed a hand to your neck, checking for a wound.

“Cas, what the hell?” you said when you found nothing.

“I've healed your wounds completely.”

“And the Grace?” you said as you threw your legs over the edge of the gurney and looked down at the syringe in Cas’s hand. It wasn’t even filed a quarter of the way up with an iridescent, blue light. 

“Well,” Cas said as he glanced down at the syringe, “whatever Grace was inside you is gone now. What's left of Gadreel is in here. We'll just have to try the spell with what we have.”

You sighed in frustration and scrubbed a hand over your face. “Damn it.”

“Y/N, I want Gadreel to pay as much as you do.” You glanced away from him with a guilty look but Cas misconstrued the meaning of it. “But nothing is worth losing you. You know, being human, it didn't just change my view of food. It changed my view of you.”

You frowned and looked up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I used to put you on a pedestal. I used to think you were this … almighty human being because you were the only human who managed to bring an angel and demon together to work for a common cause. And you were a child, no less. But now … now I can see you are just a human. A flawed, broken human. You were never an almighty being. You were – are – just you. And yet … you’re the pinnacle of everything amazing that’s ever happened in your lifetime. You’re just human. And, somehow, that makes you better than what I had thought you were. It makes me think better of you.”

You pressed your lips together and dropped your eyes to your lap. Cas knew you were finding it difficult to believe what he was saying. He didn’t understand why but he did know   
that you would believe in time.

“You know, old me -- I would’ve just kept going. I would've jammed that needle in deeper until you died because the ends always justified the means. And … and I would have visited you in heaven just to ease my guilt. But what I went through - well, that PB and J taught me that angels can change, so ... who knows? Maybe Winchester’s can, too.”

****

“This is by far the dumbest idea you've ever had,” Crowley snapped under his breath as he and Dean snuck into Cain’s house.

“Yeah, well, it's early,” Dean growled.

The two of them walked into the living area where they’d been talking to Cain earlier.

“Oh, there's nothing here,” Crowley said. “Shame. Let's go.”

“Hey!” Dean snapped as he turned to him. “Sack up and start looking, okay? We don't have that much time.”

Crowley huffed and turned to head into the kitchen as Dean stepped further into the living room. He didn’t bother looking through the places he had earlier, instead, he went straight to the mantle above the fireplace – the one place in the living room he hadn’t snooped around. 

What he found there made his blood run cold and his stomach churn with nausea. 

In the centre of the mantle was an old picture of a woman. She was beautiful and the name ‘Colette’ was written down the bottom. She had a ring on her wedding finger that was similar to Cain’s which led Dean to believe the woman was Cain’s wife from a long time ago.

That wasn’t what bothered Dean. No, what made Dean’s skin crawl – what made rage burn in his chest – what that the woman in the picture was you. 

“Nothing. Not even porn.”

Dean started at the sound of Crowley’s voice he turned and forced his face back to a blank mask. “Think I figured out why he went off the reservation so many years ago.”

He handed the picture to Crowley and said nothing. He hoped – beyond all hope – that he was going crazy. That he’d become so desperate to see you again he was beginning to superimpose your face over everything he saw.

Crowley frowned as he looked down at the picture. “This is a joke, right?” Dean said nothing. “This is Y/N, Dean.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Dean’s heart felt like it’d been crushed as he listened to Crowley’s reaction. “Don’t you?” Dean growled.

Crowley’s frowned deepened. “Of course not. I –”

“You mean to tell me you don’t know anything about this? You? Of all people?” 

Crowley took a step back when Dean advanced. “Dean. Listen –”

“Why is a 200-year-old picture of my wife sitting on the mantle of Cain?! The father of murder, by your words!”

“I think I can answer that.”

Dean and Crowley turned at the sound of Cain’s voice. He was standing in the entryway to the kitchen, cradling a paper bag of groceries in one arm.

Crowley swallowed when Cain eyed the photo in his hands. 

 

“That belongs to me,” Cain said.

“Sorry,” Crowley mumbled as he handed the picture back. “Gorgeous, by the way. Looks just like my daughter. Uncanny, really.”

Cain chuffed as he looked down and ran his thumb across your picture. “Of course she’s your daughter.” 

Dean ground his teeth together as he watched the way Cain looked down at your picture. He opened his mouth to get some answers but before he could say anything, headlights shone through the living room window.

Demons had arrived. And by the sounds of the shouting from the front, Tara was well and truly dead, and they were all there for Dean and Crowley. 

“Abaddon. This lot all need to die,” Crowley said as he looked out the window. “I count –”

“Too many,” Dean said as he tested the front door. He turned to Cain and tried to ignore the picture that still hung from his fingertips. “The whammy you put on the doors that keeps us in. Will it keep them out?”

“For now,” Cain said.

Dean nodded. “I'm gonna barricade the entrances. Get ready for a fight.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Cain said as he turned to head into the kitchen.

“What?”

Cain looked back at him. “You exposed my home. You exposed me.”

“Well, boo-hoo!” Dean growled as he followed Cain into the kitchen.

Cain smiled. “Brave but impulsive. That was always her type. You truly have lived up to your reputation.”

Dean’s lip curled up in anger at the mention of you. “I can't say you've lived up to yours,” he growled.

“What can I say?” Cain said as he put his grocery’s down on the table. “I'm retired. If you survive, you're welcome to join me for the last meal I will eat in this house before I disappear again. It's the least I can do.”

Dean gave up talking to him for the moment. There was no getting him to help and, if Dean was being honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be around the man much longer than he had to be. Not when it seemed as though he knew more about Dean’s wife than Dean did himself. 

When Dean got all the doors barricaded, he sent Crowley to watch the front living room while he stayed in the kitchen and argued with Cain some more. 

Which probably wasn’t the best idea because the next thing Dean knew, Cain was letting in a handful of demons and sitting back to watch the show as Dean worked his ass off to take them down. Crowley didn’t offer much help either. 

“What was that?” Dean growled as he shoved the last demon body to the ground. “Some kind of a test?”

Cain leaned back in his kitchen chair and took a sip of his beer. “I felt connected to you right from the beginning. Kindred spirits, if you will. You and I are very much alike.”

“Right. Yeah, except I didn't kill my brother.”

Cain gave him a curious look. “You saved yours. Why?”

“Because you never give up on family -- ever.”

“Where's your brother now, then?”

Exactly where Dean wanted to be. With his wife. 

“I don't know what kind of game you're playing here,” Dean growled, “and I don't really care. Just give me the damn blade and tell me what the hell your deal is with my wife.”

“Sorry, Dean,” Cain said. “I have nothing to hand over.”

“What?” Dean snapped, noting that Cain was avoiding the subject of you.

“I no longer have the blade. It's gone.”

That wasn’t news that Crowley wanted to hear either. By the time Cain was done with his corn and the three of them were back in the front living room, steam was practically coming out of the demon’s ears.

“Gone? What do you mean, ‘gone’? How? The spell brought us here to you, so it has to be here,” Crowley said.

“Your spell brought you to the source of the Blade's power,” Cain said. “Me.” 

He rolled up the sleeve of his right arm to reveal a mark burned into his inner forearm. Crowley shrank back and made the sign of the cross over his heart.

Dean gave him a look of disbelief. “Really? Now?”

“It's the bloody mark of Cain,” Crowley said.

“From Lucifer himself,” Cain said. “The mark and the blade work together. Without the mark, the blade is useless. It's just an old bone.”

“A bone?”

“The jawbone of an animal,” Dean said. “The jawbone you used to kill Abel because he was God's favourite.”

“Abel wasn't talking to God,” Cain snapped. “He was talking to Lucifer. Lucifer was gonna make my brother into his pet – a present for his dearly beloved, or so I hear. I couldn't bear to watch him be corrupted, so I offered a deal -- Abel's soul in heaven for my soul in hell. Lucifer accepted ... as long as I was the one who sent Abel to heaven. So, I killed him. Became a soldier of Hell -- a knight. Apparently, a demon militia was a much better gift.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Lucifer ordered you to make more?”

Cain bared his teeth. “My knights and I, we did horrible things -- for centuries. Bringers of chaos and darkness.”

“Then you met Colette,” Dean said, his jaw ticking. 

Cain gave him a hard look. “She knew who I was ... and what I was. She loved me unconditionally. She forgave me. She only asked for one thing.”

“To stop,” Crowley said.

Cain nodded once as he looked at the demon. “When the knights found out, they took retribution. They took Colette, so I picked the first blade back up, and it felt so good to have it in my hands again, and I slaughtered the Knights of Hell. All but one, it seems.” He looked back at Dean. “I only knew her as Colette. She changed her name to escape her brother before I met her.”

Dean bared his teeth. “What was her name before?”

A single heartbeat passed, and then Cain said, “Y/N. Her name was Y/N.”

Dean swallowed so hard it hurt his throat. He shook his head in denial. It was one thing to suspect it but to have it confirmed … 

“No,” Dean growled. “No, you’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know!” Dean took a deep breath as he felt his eyes well up. He gestured to where the picture rested back on the mantle. “But that’s not my wife. It can’t be.”

“You’re right,” Cain said gently as he took a step towards Dean. “That’s not your wife. That’s my wife. Your Y/N … she may be Colette on a technicality but she will never, truly be mine again.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean growled, his frustration growing with every unanswered question.

“It means Y/N is the source of all myths surrounding reincarnation. She’s the only being to ever accomplish it.” Cain pressed his lips together for a moment. “She … is not God’s creation.”

Dean’s insides felt hollow. What the hell was Cain talking about? What did he mean you didn’t come from God? You were human … weren’t you?

“Then … then who the hell made her? Is-Is she even human?” Cain glanced away and Dean stormed forward in anger. “Who the hell is my wife?!”

Cain looked back at him. “I don’t know. All I know is … she’s a lot older than humanity. But, as far as I can tell, she’s human. The only reason I know any of this is because I recognised her from many, many centuries ago. I thought they’d sent her to spy on me … to lull me into a false sense of security. So, I did some research. Suddenly, she began cropping up all over the place. Hundreds of birth and death certificates all connected to her. She always looked the same. Always had the same first name. And she was always at the centre of everything.”

Dean barely made it to the couch before he collapsed down onto it. Crowley stood there, his expression blank, but Dean could see it in his eyes … he was as shook by this revelation as Dean was.

“What do you mean?” Dean said slowly. “What do you mean she’s at the centre of everything?”

“Every world-changing event, both known and unknown to humans … she is at the centre of it all. Whether she’s fighting against it or for it. Sometimes … she’s even the cause. The world, quite literally, revolves around her.” 

“You said you recognised her,” Crowley said. And suddenly, a sick feeling filled Dean’s stomach because he knew exactly what Crowley was thinking. “From where?”

Cain gave the both of them a look. A look that almost seemed sympathetic. “I recognised her … because she’s the reason Lucifer made the Knights of Hell. She’s who he fell in love with.”

“Well,” Crowley said as Dean fell back into the couch and stared at the coffee table, “call me a proud daddy. My daughter’s really made a name for herself.”

“That … that explains Abaddon …” Dean breathed. “She’s … she’s been obsessed with Y/N. But-But she doesn’t want to kill her … she –”

“She wants to corrupt her,” Cain said. “Colette belonged to Abaddon before she met me. Or, so Abaddon believes. In reality … Colette never belonged to anyone.”

Crowley’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Hang on, why would Y/N tell you to stop killing ... but not Abaddon?”

Dean looked up at that question. His nausea had gone away and was replaced with ... nothing. He felt nothing. He was numb all over and all he could think was that he needed to see you just then. He needed to hold you. 

“I believe,” Cain began, “that she did tell Abaddon to stop. And I believe that Abaddon was going to. And then she found out that Colette had fallen in love with me ... Abaddon never wanted to share her. She never understood that Colette was too special to keep locked away. Like I said ... she never did belong to anyone. She never will.” 

“Does she know?” Dean said. His voice sounded hollow. 

Cain and Crowley looked at him so he repeated his question.

Cain shook his head and Dean’s heart was filled with relief. He didn’t know what he would have done if you’d known all this time who you were.

“It seems as though when she’s reborn, she forgets her past life. She has no idea who she really is. In fact ... God may be the only being who knows who she truly is. As far as she’s concerned ... Colette – Y/N – is an ordinary human.”

Crowley scoffed. “Ordinary my ass.”

Dean left Cain’s house that night with the Mark of Cain on his arm and more questions than answers. The only thing he was sure of was that the First Blade was sitting at the bottom of the ocean and ... and he loved you. He missed you. 

And he wanted you back so bad it hurt. 

Meanwhile, back at the bunker, you were sitting in the library. Failure sat heavy on your shoulders. The tracking spell flunked and all you could wonder was:

What would happen if you broke your promise to an angel?

Who were you? 

Was Dean okay? 

Would he still love you if he knew you were a monster? 

Would Sam?


	42. The Nightmare With The Sharp Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sam haul ass from New Mexico when you get wind of Garth's whereabouts. Only, Dean beat the two of you to it and now the three of you have to work a case without letting your personal issues interfere.

When Sam walked into Grantsburg Memorial Hospital in search of Garth, he should have known he’d find Dean already in the guy’s room. 

 

Sam was glad to see him but he knew you wouldn’t be. 

You could barely look at Sam on a good day, so what the hell were you gonna do when you walked in and saw Dean standing by Garth’s bed? 

Sam sighed and closed the door to the room. “Saw Garth's John Doe on the police wire,” he said as he turned back to Dean. “You?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Where you comin' from?”

“New Mexico.”

“Well, that's a haul.”

Sam nodded and looked at his brother. Really looked at him. If Sam thought he was a mess because of everything, then Dean was the walking dead.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Or showered. He looked thinner, too, like he hadn’t been eating. Sam didn’t blame him. The separation was hard on all three of you. 

You seemed to be copping it the worst, though. Your depression and PTSD had come back full force. You were having panic attacks on the daily. He lost count of how many times he’d walked in on you just staring at your reflection in the mirror, spaced out while the sink was overflowing with water because you’d left the tap on. 

You slept alone in Dean’s bed. It killed him to hear you cry every night but you wouldn’t let him anywhere near you. The only time you ever let him touch you was when you were having a panic attack, and that was only because, in those brief moments, you forgot about why you were angry him.

Except … it didn’t even feel like you were angry at him. You didn’t yell or give him hard looks. In fact, it was like you’d just … given up. Given up on him. On the relationship.

That terrified Sam more than your anger ever could.

“How is she?” Dean said.

Sam could feel the sorrow in his own face. Dean had to look away. “She’s … she’s really bad, Dean. I keep … I keep coming home … terrified that she’ll be gone. Or-Or worse. She’s not even trying to hide it when she … when she hurts herself. I-I-It’s like she doesn’t … just doesn’t care anymore. I don’t even recognise her when … when I look at her.”

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face and sniffed as a tear fell down his cheek.

“You have to come home,” Sam said.

“I can’t, Sammy.”

“Why not?”

“I told –”

“No you didn’t, Dean,” Sam snapped. “You-You gave her some self-pitying speech and then ran off because you were too much of a coward to face her after what we did.” Dean gave him a hard look. “You know I’m right. And even if I wasn’t you – you can’t do that kind of crap anymore. Not when we’ve got Y/N. Before, we – we never really worked through our problems. But now … now we’ve got a wife, Dean. That means that no matter how bad things get, we don’t run away. We don’t get to do that. Hell, we don’t have the right to do that. Not to her. Not after everything she’s done for us.”

Dean flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip and growled, “Yeah? Well, how has sticking around worked out for you?”

Sam’s head snapped back at those words. How could Dean say that? How could he think that running away was a better option than working things out?

“At least I get to wake up every morning and see her face,” Sam said in a low voice. “How are things working out for you?”

Dean didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. They both knew he was falling apart without you there.

Sam turned as the door opened.

“The nurse doesn’t know much,” you said as you walked in and closed the door behind you. “He –”

You froze when your eyes fell on Dean. 

The moment Dean saw you, his heart shattered. 

You weren’t wearing one of their flannels like you usually did. And in the shirt and shorts you had on, Dean could see the fresh cuts along your arms and thighs. The only reason you’d be harming yourself in places as visible as those is because your hips were too marked up to fit anymore.

There were dark circles under your eyes and you looked like you’d spent the better part of the last month sobbing. Your hair was in tangles and you looked like you hadn’t been eating much. 

“Baby …” Dean said as he took a step forward. 

You took a step away from him (and Sam) and his blood ran cold. He had never truly understood how Sam felt when you had almost left him over Amelia and Purgatory. Now he knew. 

Every time you looked at him with hollow eyes. Every time you moved away from him. It felt like a piece of him was being torn apart, and you were the only one who could put him back together. 

He needed you but seeing you now … he didn’t think his presence in the bunker could make anything better. He felt as though he was only making things worse just by being in the same room as you. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself and jerked your head towards where Garth laid, unconscious. 

“You spoken to him yet?” you said as you avoided Sam and Dean’s eyes.

Dean swallowed and took a long look at you before turning his attention back to Garth. “No. Assload of painkillers. He's been out since I got here.”

Sam moved forward and lifted Garth’s arm to show you he was cuffed to the bed. “What's he being charged with?”

“Killing a cow.”

Sam frowned and looked at his brother. “Why?”

“I was about to see if I could find out. Lock the door.”

Sam turned to do as Dean asked but you were already there turning the lock. He caught your eye as you turned back. He gave you a warm smile in the hopes that you would smile back. It had been so long since he’d seen you smile. 

You didn’t. You just stepped up to the end of the bed and stared at Garth.

Dean glanced at you again before he pulled a syringe filled up half way with a clear liquid.

“Whoa. Hey,” Sam said as he held his hand up. “What is that? Adrenaline?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean said as he flicked the air bubbles out. 

“You trying to jump-start him or kill him?”

Dean gave him an annoyed look. “I want some answers. He walked out on Kevin. He walked out on us. So if you got a better idea ...”

Sam’s jaw ticked as he gave Dean a hard look. You rolled your eyes and pushed past Sam. They both looked at you in alarm, not expecting you to do anything but stand there in silence, but when you slapped Garth across the face they knew you meant business.

Garth shot up from his bed, wide awake and screaming. It took him a few minutes – and a few words from Dean – to calm down. But eventually, he laid back in bed to answer your questions as Sam uncuffed him.

Unfortunately, all you’d managed to get out of him was that he’d been hit by a car and he was on a hunt before he was launching himself out of bed and running to the bathroom gagging. 

Dean sighed when the bathroom door slammed shut and all you could hear was Garth retching into the toilet. 

“Good thing I didn't give him the adrenaline,” Dean said. 

The silence was deafening as the three of you sat around waiting for Garth to come back out. 

It was killing Dean to sit there and not be able to talk to you the way he used to. He missed the way you would lean back against him when the three of you were waiting around for something. The way you would tease Sam while you ran your fingertips up and down Dean’s arm where they wrapped around your waist.

He always got goose bumps when you did that. 

“Anything on Gadreel?” Dean said as he gave you a hopeful look.

You glanced at Sam but when he looked back, making it clear he wasn’t going to answer the question, you sighed and reluctantly turned your eyes to Dean.

“Turns out he left some Grace in me before he bolted,” you said.

Dean gave you a tentative smile. “You know how wrong that sounds, right?” 

His smile fell when he only got a hard look in return.

“I don’t want you going after Gadreel,” you said.

Sam looked up at that, this being a new revelation. 

Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“You heard what I said. I mean it, Dean. Just drop it. That’s all I’m gonna tell you for now. We can talk about the rest at a later date.”

Your formality and the demand in your voice had Dean’s chest burning with anger. He straightened, prepared to argue, but as suddenly as the anger came … it left him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fight. Hell, arguing with you was one of his favourite past times. You kept him on his toes. Knocked him straight when he needed it. But he just couldn’t.

Not when he could see how broken you’d become because of him. 

So he dropped it. He let you call the shots without a snappy remark or smart ass come back. He just hung his head and let you run the show. 

It was the least he could do.

“What happened to your arm?” Sam said. 

Dean almost asked what he was talking about but then he noticed his rolled up sleeve had ridden up to reveal part of the Mark.

“Oh,” Dean said as he pulled his sleeve the rest of the way up. “It's a ... gift from Cain.”

Sam chuffed. “Like ... the wrestler?”

“That would be awesome,” you said.

They looked at you. Sam smiled at your comment, glad that you were making any kind of joke. As though you suddenly realised what you said, you ducked your head and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself.

That was okay. Dean may not see it but Sam knew your comment was progress. It meant he’d been right in thinking Dean’s presence was good for you. 

“It would be,” Dean said with a soft look, but you were already moving further away from the two of them and avoiding their eyes. Dean glanced down at the mark and tried to keep his tone light anyway. “But, uh, no. The, uh ...the Old Testament dude.”

The three of you glanced towards the bathroom door when you heard a flush. 

“He got all Biblical on me and gave me his mark,” Dean finished.

“What’s that mean? How – How did it even happen?” you said as you looked at him and took a step forward.

The worry in your eyes was enough to fill him with a morsel of hope. You still cared for him at least.

“Crowley and I found him, and he gave me this so that I could eighty-six Abaddon once and for all.’

“You worked a job with Crowley?” Sam said, missing the odd look in Dean’s eyes as he mentioned his trip with the demon.

Dean nodded and glanced at Sam. “The devil you know.” He looked back at you. “Listen, baby. There’s something you need to know about Cain –”

“Garth?”

Dean shot his brother a hard look at the interruption. “What?” he growled. 

Sam held up a finger and suddenly Dean knew what he was on about. Garth hadn’t come out of the bathroom yet, and he couldn’t hear anything from inside. 

****

Garth was gone. Why he’d run from the three of you was a mystery but seeing as Dean hadn’t tested him, Sam was leaning towards the conclusion that maybe he wasn’t as human as he seemed. 

The only lead you had was a security camera that might have caught his escape. While Dean checked that out, you and Sam went to talk to the farmer whose cow Garth had killed.

All you’d managed to find out from him was that the cow wasn’t the first animal to be killed. And, by the looks of it, they’d all been killed so their organs could be harvested.

The evidence seemed to be stacking up against Garth not being Garth anymore but none of you were willing to accept it just yet. Least of all Sam and Dean.

You’d convinced Sam to go back to the hospital and wait near the Impala before he called Dean with the news. When you told him it was because you thought Dean was going to try to find Garth on his own, Sam wasn’t convinced.

But he did what you asked anyway because fighting with you was the last thing he wanted to do. 

So, while you leaned back against an ambulance, Sam called Dean and put him on speaker to tell him about the cow. 

“Well, why was Garth there?” Dean said. In the background, you could hear him walking through the sliding door at the entrance of the hospital. 

“He said he was on a hunt, right?” Sam said. “Maybe he was hunting whatever killed it.”

“Why would he run? This whole thing's starting to stink. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. What about you? Any luck?”

There was a pause and you could hear Dean’s boots hitting the asphalt over the phone. “Uh, nada. Cameras were pointing in the wrong direction.”

You gave Sam a look and he pressed his lips together. “You're kidding,” Sam said.

“Wish I was.”

“Hmm. So ...”

“So, Garth's a hunter. If he wants to stay gone, he's gone.”

Sam’s jaw ticked as he looked down at you. You rolled your eyes and looked away. Sam realised then just how stupid his brother was when it came to you.

“We got nothing?”

“Well, what can I say, Sammy?” Dean said. You pushed off the ambulance when the sound of his boots wasn’t just coming through the phone. “We lost this one. Send me a postcard.”

Dean rounded the ambulance and ran right into you. With a scowl you pushed him back and pulled the file he was holding right from his hand. 

You shook your head in irritation as you looked through the photos in it. They were clear shots of the car Garth escaped in. “Wow. Make, model, license plate. Really, Dean?” you growled.

He grunted as you shoved the file back against his chest.

“Baby, I told you we can't hunt together. It's for your own good.”

“Screw you,” you snapped. “You don’t want me around anymore? Then just say it. But don’t show me the disrespect of pretending it’s for my own good.”

Dean opened his mouth to assure you that wasn’t the case but you were already pushing past him and storming towards the Impala. 

“Nice, Dean,” Sam growled. Dean’s jaw ticked but he said nothing in his defence. “Why are doing this? Why are you still lying to her? And about stupid crap, no less. Really? The camera was pointing the wrong way?”

“It’s for her own good,” Dean said.

“No, it’s not! She’s right, you’re using that as an excuse. So what is it, Dean? Huh? What are - are you punishing yourself? Is that it? Is that why you’re trying to push her away?”

“You think I want this?” Dean snapped. “You think I like making her hate me? ‘Cause I don’t. Being away from her is the hardest thing I’ve had to do. And you know I’ve been through some crap, man.”

Sam gave him a confused frown. “Then – then why …?”

“Because she deserves better, man. Better than this. Better than us.”

Sam chuffed. Not because he thought the situation was funny but because he’d been in Dean’s shoes before. There was a time where he would wake up to you every morning and wonder why you were there. Why you hadn’t left him yet.

Dean rolled his eyes, assuming Sam was laughing at him. 

“You know,” Sam said as he scratched the back of his neck, “I used to think that, too. Hell, I still do … on the odd occasion. But …”

“But?”

Sam shrugged. “But … I don’t know … I just – I learned pretty quick that no matter what I thought … it’s her decision. Y/N is the one that decides who is and isn’t good enough for her. I’m just stoked that she thinks I am good enough. You should be too.”

Finally, Sam saw doubt fill his brother’s features. 

In a last-ditch attempt to persuade him, he said, “Look, after we find Garth, if you still want us to leave, then we’ll go. But at the very least, show Y/N the respect she deserves. Don’t put the burden of you leaving on her. It’s your problem, Dean. They’re your insecurities and they have nothing to do with her.”

At this point, Dean could barely look Sam in the eye. 

He sighed and held the file out to his brother. “Ride belongs to a girl named Bess Meyers. She lives in the next town over.”

****

There was no knocking on the door and asking nice questions when you tracked down Garth’s whereabouts. 

Dean kicked the door down and the three of you stormed in with guns drawn. 

Garth stood behind the dining table with a couple of bags that he was filling with clothes. He held his hands up as soon as the door was busted in. 

He wasn’t alone. 

After his failed attempts at trying to calm the three of you down, you all began searching the apartment and uncovered a werewolf when she jumped out and tried to attack you. 

You were already in a crappy mood, so, in no time, you had her face down on the ground with her arm wrenched up behind her at an odd angle. 

She snarled and tried to get back up but you stomped your boot down between her shoulders blades. She let out a shriek as the movement forced her back to the ground and twisted her arm further in its socket. 

You pulled your silver blade from its holster (your gun having been dropped when she jumped you) but just as you prepared to drive it into the back of her neck, Garth stopped you, covering her own head with his body.

“What are you doing?!” Dean growled. “She's a werewolf!”

“So am I,” Garth cried out.

He spared a glance for the brothers but kept most of his focus on you. At first, you thought it was because you were the one holding the knife. But there was a pleading in his eyes that went further than that. It was a plea for understanding. 

It disturbed you that, of the three of you, you were the one Garth thought could understand his situation. 

****

Garth sat on the couch with the woman. When you saw the way she looked at him, there was no doubt in your mind that she was in love with him. 

“It's okay, baby,” Garth said as he pressed an ice pack to her shoulder. “Hold it like that.”

She did as he asked and gave him a gentle smile. “What are they doing here, Garth?”

“They're friends. I promise.”

“They're hunters.”

Garth sighed and looked at the three of you. “All right. We've all gotten off on the wrong foot here. So let's do things right. Guys ... this is Bess ... my beloved.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders with a proud smile. “And, Bess, that's Dean.” He gestured to where Dean stood on your right side. “Now, he could start a fight in an empty house, but deep down inside, he's just a big ol' Teddy bear.” You coughed to try and hide your smile at Dean’s annoyed look – you were supposed to be mad at him. Sam outright chuckled but stopped when Garth said, “And Sam here -- Sam can be a bit insecure at times, but for good reason. Bless his heart.” He gestured to you next. “And this is Y/N. She –”

“Garth,” you said. “I spent most of my life in a psych ward. They ran out of psychiatrists that would work with me. So you might want to rethink your shrink-y analysis.”

Garth cleared his throat and nodded. “Right.” He looked at Bess. “She’s basically … what you see is what you get.”

“That's sweet,” Dean said. “Werewolf?”

Garth sighed as he looked up at the three of you. “All right, guys, look -- about six months ago, I was outside Portland, Maine, hunting this big bad wolf. I took him down, but ... he bit me in the process.”

“And you didn't call one of us?” you said.

“And tell you what? That I messed up? No, I-I knew the deal. There's no cure, so I accepted my fate. Ate my favorite dish of egg fu Yung, watched the world's greatest movie, Rocky III and then ... was ready to eat a bullet when Bess here found me.”

He looked at her with an adoring smile that she returned. It made you nauseous. Was this what people saw when they looked at you and the Winchesters on a good day?

“And how'd she do that?” Sam said.

“Smelled him,” Bess said with a smile. “How else?”

“Yeah,” Garth said. “She talked the gun out of my mouth, and, as they say, the rest is history. We've been married for four months now.”

“You're married?” Sam said.

“To a werewolf,” Dean said.

Bess gave you all a patient look. As though she’d been through this a thousand times over. “Yes. And my pack has taken him in as one of our own.”

You all turned your eyes to Garth. 

“Guys, it's not what you think,” he said. “We don't hurt people.”

“No, you just go all Wolverine on cattle,” Dean said.

Garth sighed in regret. “Yeah.”

“At least he's not eating human hearts,” Bess said. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for a bitten to control his instincts like Garth does? How well he's doing?”

Garth smiled. “Thank you, baby.”

She rubbed his arm. “Well, it's the truth, honey bunny.”

You frowned. “Honey bunny?” you mumbled under your breath. 

Dean smirked and looked down at you. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it a moment later as his face fell. 

It killed you to see that the two of you just didn’t have that kind of relationship right now. It wasn’t the same since he left. He couldn’t just turn to you and make you laugh anymore. Not when you both knew you’d be heading in opposite directions as soon as the case was done. 

Not when you knew you’d spend another night crying yourself to sleep in his bed and he’d go back to a motel room and stare at your picture until he fell asleep. 

“Wait. A -- A ‘bitten’?” Sam said, missing the exchange between you and Dean. “You're all bitten.”

“Not at all,” Bess said. “You're either born to it like I was, or you're bitten, like Garth.”

“Hold on,” Dean said. “You said you were -- you were born a werewolf?”

Bess nodded once. “Second generation.”

“Garth, can we talk to you for a sec?” you said. “Alone?”

He pressed his lips together but turned to Bess and said, “Honey, why don't you go get another ice pack for that shoulder? Okay?”

She nodded and Dean started on Garth the moment she left the room.

“What the hell?” he growled.

Garth stood with a sigh and tucked a hand into his pocket. “Look, I know you guys want to shoot first and ask questions later, but I checked everything out. This pack is clean. Everything's Kosher.”

“Right,” Sam said. “Uh, minus the part where your wife attacked Y/N.”

“Yeah, because you three came busting in here like a house on fire. Guns waving, the jawlines and the hair. And you?!”

You frowned. “Me? What the hell did I do?”

“You’re a very scary person!” You rolled your eyes and elbowed Sam when he smiled down at you. Garth looked at Dean. “Dean, no one wants any trouble. You got my word on that.”

“Oh, no. That ship has sailed,” Dean growled. “We're gonna need a hell of a lot more than your word.”

Garth nodded in understanding. “Okay. Okay. Tell you what. You want proof? Come pray with us.”

You scoffed. “No freakin’ way. I ain’t praying with nobody.”

****

The next day you were leaning against the entryway of a living room in a farmhouse while Garth’s choir finished up. Turned out he could really play the piano.

Dean stood beside you, his face stoic as his eyes darted about the room. You guessed he was trying to memorise the face of everyone in there. 

Garth approached the two of you as everyone began filing out the front door. Bess was close beside him. You wondered if everyone thought you and the Winchester’s were attached at the hip like those two.

“Hi. So, what'd I tell you? It's all good, right?” Garth said.

You blew a sigh out your nose as you looked around. You knew what Dean’s answer was. You were a little more open to other suggestions.

“Everyone here's a wolf?” Dean said in a low tone.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, not all good.”

“Oh, come on, Dean,” Garth sighed. “You just got to meet them.” He turned slightly and pointed out two men in the far corner of the room. “That's Russ and Joba, Bess' first cousins on sister Joy's side.” The two men waved and Garth pointed out the group leader next, the one who’d sent everyone on their way. “That's Reverend Jim, Bess' dad -- leader of the pack and a good man.”

At the sound of his name, Reverend Jim approached the four of you with a smile, his wife Joy (who’d let you and Dean in earlier) by his side. 

“Dean and Y/N isn’t it? Welcome. Jim Meyers,” he said as he held his hand out to you first. “Folks usually call me –”

“Reverend Jim,” you said without shaking his hand. “Yeah, we got it.”

Garth let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh. Uh, my bad. Y/N's got this crazy fear of germs.”

“No. She just hates the church,” Dean said. 

He gave you a meaningful look. You swallowed and straightened from the entryway. Your relationship with the church was not something you wanted to be public knowledge. 

You knew he was just trying to protect you but he couldn’t fulfil a husband’s duties when you were deciding whether or not that was still his role. 

Reverend Jim sighed, not convinced by either Garth’s or Dean’s excuse. “I understand your apprehension. Hunters and our kind don't have the best history together.”

“But I think you'll find we're not much different from you,” Joy said with a smile.

“Oh, sister, I highly doubt it,” you said.

“Why don't we break bread and see?” Reverend Jim said.

“Why would we do that?” Dean said.

Reverend Jim and Joy sighed before brushing past the two of you to head into the dining room. 

Garth gave you both a shocked look and snapped your names in reprimand

A short time later, you and Dean were seated around the dining table with the whole family. You and Dean had overcooked steak, corn and burnt biscuits on your plates while everyone else was eating raw animal organs.

You couldn’t stomach your own meal and by the way Dean was looking at all the raw meat, you didn’t think he could either.

“Don't you guys say some sort of a grace or something?” Dean said.

He grunted as you kicked his leg under the table. The last thing you wanted was for them to start saying grace.

He gave you a hard look and for a very brief moment, things between you two seemed normal. Then the hard look fell away into a guilty one and the moment was gone. 

“We're more spiritual than we are religious,” Reverend Jim said as he watched the two of you. “We believe, much like the American Indians did, that nature and man are one.”

“Yeah, really worked out well for them,” Dean muttered. 

Garth glared at him and an awkward silence fell around the table. Dean’s tactics were horrendous, so you took a different route when you noticed the silver bullets hanging around everyone’s necks.

“So, why are you all wearing silver bullets around your necks?” you said. 

Dean glanced at you before shifting his eyes to pick up on what you had.

Bess hovered her fingers over her bullet and smiled at you. “Many of our kind see themselves as indestructible. This is a constant reminder of how precious our lives truly are.”

“Yeah, but it's silver,” Dean said. “I mean, doesn't it burn?”

“Yeah, it does a bit,” Garth said, “but that's kind of the point. It reminds us of our fragility.”

“My daughter, Bess, was born a lycanthrope,” Reverend Jim said. “It was one of the proudest days of my life.” His expression turned solemn and he drew in a deep breath as though to steady himself. “Which soon turned tragic ... when a hunter killed my wife. Believe me when I tell you, I wanted to make someone pay. Then I looked at Bess, and I realized the road to revenge is a dark and lonely one, which you never get off. And that hole in the pit of your stomach, you never fill it -- ever.”

Your body stiffened as you felt Dean’s eyes look down at you. You knew he was thinking about his hunt for Gadreel and what he’d told you on that dock.

“Yeah, I get it,” he said softly. 

He flexed his hands on top of the table. His fingers stretched out far enough that they brushed against yours but you pulled your hands down to your lap rather than let him play with your fingers the way he used to.

You felt on display for the entire table. Like they could all see the tension between the two of you. Like they all knew your story. 

You felt exposed to them all and your chest tightened in response. Suddenly the room felt too stuffy. 

“So I chose to look forward, not backwards,” Reverend Jim continued as you twisted the bottom of your shirt in your hands. “And the minute I did that, the powers that be brought this beautiful, compassionate, amazing woman into my life.” He gave Joy a loving smile and in that moment, all you wanted was for Dean to look at you like that. “And she helped me raise a little baby girl as if Bess were her own.”

“I can't take all the credit,” Joy said. “Daddy had a hand in it, too. He saw your potential.”

“Daddy?” Dean said. 

You ground your teeth against the tightening of your throat and tried to ignore the nausea in your stomach. You were suddenly very aware that every werewolf in the room could hear the erratic beating of your heart.

You hoped they assumed it was fear.

“My father -- bless his soul -- was the previous reverend of our church,” Joy said as she glanced at you, “the third generation in our family to serve.”

“So, you're fourth-generation werewolf?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, Y/N. Are you alright?” Reverend Jim asked. 

You tried to draw in a deep breath but it sounded too wheezy. There was no putting this off.

“Fine,” you said as you stood from the table, almost knocking your chair over. “We have to go.”

You all but ran out of the house and half fell down the front porch stairs. Dean tried to catch you but he was too far behind to get to you in time as you stumbled a few steps down the driveway.

You fell to your knees in the gravel and Dean crouched by you.

“Baby, what’s going on?” he said in a panic as he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck.

“Panic attack,” you wheezed out. “Get me … get me out … don’t want to have it … here.”

Without another word, Dean scooped you up in his arms and rushed you down to the end of the driveway where the Impala sat.

He rested you in the back seat and slammed the door in his hurry to get to the front. 

He skidded out onto the road, almost getting t-boned by another car. Three times he almost swerved into the middle of the road in his effort to turn and try to calm you down. 

You wanted Sam there, he was good at this kind of thing. It’s not that Dean was terrible, it’s just that he got too emotional. Too scared. Sam had always been able to stay level headed when you needed it. 

When your breathing began to calm down, Dean paid more attention to the road. When he was a few miles away from the house he pulled over on the side of the road. Without a word, he got out and crawled into the back seat with you. 

He leaned towards you then stopped short, his hands just hovered in the air as he looked at you.

“Are you okay?” he said.

You weren’t. The panic attack had past but now you were stuck with this … hole in your chest. You felt lonely and yet the man you loved sat right across from you. 

And for a moment, you just stared at him. He was so beautiful to you. He had so many faults but all of them were worth everything he had to give you.

He was caring and protective and so sweet to you. He pushed you to be better. He put up with you when you were annoying. Hell, you thought that maybe he loved you the most when you were annoying. 

You sat there looking at one of the two most perfect men you’d ever met, and all you could think was … how could a man like Dean Winchester love someone like you?

Without thinking about it, you launched yourself across the seat at him.

Your teeth banged together as you tried to kiss him but he didn’t seem to care. His hands gripped your waist so tight you hoped they were leaving bruises. 

He didn’t behave presumptuously, he let you take the lead. When your hands undid his jeans, he undid your shorts. And only when you tried to straddle his lap did he slip them over your legs and shift into a more comfortable position.

And even then, he didn’t presume anything. In fact, he only said something when you gripped him in your hand and began lowering yourself over him.

“You’re not –”

“I don’t care,” you murmured against his mouth.

You didn’t care that you weren’t ready to accept him into your body. You didn’t care that it was going to hurt you. And maybe … maybe you wanted it to hurt.

What you needed was to feel loved. Just for a moment. You needed to feel worth something. You needed to feel like someone could actually want you. You needed to fill up the hole in your chest with … something.

So you filled it up with Dean. His scent. His touch. And even as you pressed your face into his neck and grimaced at the pain of taking all of him into your body, you told yourself ‘this is all that you deserve’. No more. 

You didn’t know if Dean knew you were in pain but he accepted you anyway. He grunted in your ear as you bounced and rolled your hips in his lap. Each stroke becoming easier and less painful to take.

“I missed you so much,” Dean said in your ear. His voice broke and it was filled with so much pain that tears began falling down your face. 

It wasn’t until he began begging you to take him back – begging you to forgive him – that you blindly reached a hand up and put it over his mouth.

You couldn’t listen to him. You couldn’t even look at him. You just rode him until he was moaning his release against your hand.

He tried to reach between your legs – never the type to leave a woman hanging – but you shoved his hand away and all but fell out of his lap. 

You still couldn’t look at him. You had to stare at the door and for a brief, insane moment, you thought that if you sat still enough, he might not be able to see you. 

A child’s hope.

He said your name and as though that flipped a switch, you were suddenly yanking your shorts on and climbing out of the car. 

Dean took a minute to collect himself, afraid that he’d break down if he went out after you straight away. When he did finally tuck himself back into his pants and climb out of the car, it was to find you on your hands and knees in the middle of the road throwing up whatever you’d eaten last.

From what Sam had told him, it was a piece of toast that he’d all but shoved down your throat that morning. 

He walked towards you with the intention of soothing you but stopped when you got to your feet on shaky legs. 

You wiped your mouth on the collar of your shirt as you brushed past him to steady yourself against the front of the Impala.

“I’ll walk,” you mumbled.

Dean never thought that hearing those two words could hurt him so much. He moved towards you and gripped your upper arm so he could convince you otherwise. 

He got a shock when you spun around and shoved him back. 

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped.

You still couldn’t look at his face. You steadied your eyes on his chest and Dean’s own stomach twisted at the utter brokenness that was your expression.

He let you go that day. He stood there and watched you walk down the road back to town, your arms wrapped tight around your middle. When you were out of earshot, he slid down the Impala and sobbed into his hands. 

It took him an hour to clean himself up enough to head back to the farmhouse and talk to Garth. 

Russ and Joba didn’t seem so welcoming and friendly this time but someone had to tell Garth that Kevin was dead. Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you relive that.

****

“What happened, Dean?” Sam said quietly.

Night had fallen and he and Dean were meant to be watching the farmhouse for … something. But all they could watch was you. 

You were out of earshot, leaning against the fence as you did your job and kept an eye on the house.

“Nothing,” Dean said.

Sam scoffed. “Nothing? I found her on the main road, Dean. She was a mess. She smelled of vomit and looked like the walking dead.” He looked at his brother. “So, I’ll ask again.”

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “The worst thing that could happen.”

“What?”

“She – She fucked me and felt nothing.”

Sam frowned. “W-What?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, I heard you, Dean. So – So what? You guys had sex?”

Dean scoffed. “If you could call it that. She … afterwards, she jumped out of the car like her ass was on fire, threw up in the middle of the road, then started walking.”

“And – And you just let her go? Dean –”

“What was I meant to do, Sam?” Dean growled as he finally dragged his eyes away from you to look at his brother. “She couldn’t even look at me. And when I touched her she looked like she was going to be sick again. She doesn’t want anything to do with me, Sam.” 

Sam’s face fell as he listened to Dean. He turned his eyes back to you, sure that there was another explanation for your behaviour. You loved Dean. Sam was sure there was not a damn thing on the planet that could ever change that.

Dean’s voice was bitter as he turned his eyes back to you and said, “Tell me again how me coming home is what’s best for her.”

“She’s not the only one that needs you, Dean,” Sam said, his voice so soft that Dean barely caught what he was saying. “I can’t do this on my own.”

****

Sam was leaning towards the possibility that there was nothing fishy going on with Garth’s pack but Dean wasn’t convinced. He was sure that Garth was clean but he just felt like there was something going on under the surface that Garth didn’t know about. 

His suspicions were confirmed when the Sheriff called the three of you in to see a mutilated deer. Only the deer was warm when you got there – meaning it was killed after you got the call – and the Sheriff tried to kill the three of you. 

Sam found the silver bullet around his neck and Dean filled him in on what it meant.

“Ragnarok?” Sam said as he yanked the bullet off the Sheriff’s neck.

“What?” you said.

He lifted the bullet. “It’s etched into the side.”

“Why?”

“Who cares?” Dean said. “We got all the answers we need.”

“I don't know, Dean,” Sam said. “I think we need more.”

“Oh, what? Sheriff Andy Taylor here wasn't good enough for you?”

“Enough to kill Garth?” you said as you looked up at Dean. 

He looked like he might argue but all the fight fell from him the moment his eyes met yours. You realised that was the first time you’d looked at him since earlier in the Impala. 

You looked away.

“I agree with Sam,” you said. “We need to do this right. You guys should grab Garth and lock him up until we figure out what’s going on. I’ll walk to the church. See if I can find anything there.” 

“You’re not walking,” Sam said. There was no room for negotiation in the tone of his voice.

“I need to be alone, Sam,” you said. “I’ve been around too many people today.”

“Here,” Dean said before Sam could argue some more. He pulled his car keys from his back pocket and held them out to you. “You can take the Impala. Me and Sam will walk. We could use the fresh air.”

You gave him a cautious look. “You never let me drive.”

He jingled the keys in your direction. “Take them. I’d rather you bang up the car than get hurt walking at this time of night.”

Your heart swelled with love at his words. It deflated the moment he tried his best not to brush his fingers against yours. 

As he watched you head back to the Impala, Dean knew then that things were seriously wrong. Because there’s no way in hell you would ever volunteer to step foot into a church.

****

As you entered the church, you avoided shining your flashlight on the pews, altar and bibles. Anything that screamed church, really. Instead, you rushed through to the back where Reverend Jim’s office was. 

There, you found an old book on Norse mythology with a chapter on Ragnarok. 

Your phone rang just as you finished skimming through the chapter and started scouring through the Reverend’s computer.

“Hey,” you answered. “Did you find the lovebirds?”

“No,” Sam said. “Place is a wreck. No Garth, no Bess.”

“They were taken? Great.”

“Tell me you got something.”

You sighed. “Well, this, uh ... Ragnarok, end-of-days stuff -- star of the story is a wolf named Fenris, who kills the God Odin before the world ends.”

“Okay. And that helps us how?”

“There are cults that consider Fenris a wolf deity and worship him. They call themselves the maw of Fenris.”

Sam chuffed. “A cult of werewolves? What do they want?”

“Well, Ragnarok is not just a Bible story to these nut jobs. It's an action plan -- human extinction, total and complete werewolf domination.”

“And ... what? This is the -- the ground-zero for their movement?”

“Freakin' Wisconsin,” you muttered. “Time for Reverend Jim to go down. I’ve always wanted to kill a priest. I guess this’ll have to do.”

“Need any help?”

“No, I got it. You just, uh, you guys find Garth.”

“Alright. Oh, and, uh, Y/N? You and Dean really need to talk. He has to come back home.”

You hung up without replying.

You didn’t have to end up going out to find Reverend Jim. He came to you. When you hung up from your call with Sam, you heard a car door slam out front.

You had just enough time to hide in a corner by the front entrance to ambush him before he walked into the church. 

He made it halfway down the aisle before he stopped and lifted his nose to the air, as though sniffing. 

He tilted his head and said, “It's no use, Y/N. I can hear your heartbeat. You must've done this countless times, yet you still get nervous.”

You stepped out of the shadows of the corner, your gun raised as you walked up to him. You stopped a little way out of arm’s reach. 

“Nothing wrong with a little fear,” you said. “It's what makes us human.”

“Fear is not a purely human instinct,” he said. “Even monsters know fear.” When you said nothing he breathed out a sigh. “I came to work on my sermon.”

‘Well, why don't you start by preaching to me about the maw of Fenris?” He frowned. “Yeah, that's right. I know all about you and your pack's little plan.’

He shook his head and held his hands out to the side. “I assure you, we are planning nothing.”

“No? Well, then, why did I read about it in your good book?”

He sighed again and nodded once. “Because generations ago, that hate and misplaced anger was part of our beliefs. But ever since I took over here, I have eradicated it from our congregation.”

“Yeah, well, apparently, some of them didn't get the word,” you growled. “Like the good sheriff, who just tried to off us.”

His brow furrowed again. “Sheriff Pat?”

You lifted your gun a little higher and gestured it towards him. “Let me see your bullet.”

He pressed his lips together but lifted his arms out to the side and turned his head. You moved forward slowly until you could pull the bullet from under his collar.

You frowned as you inspected it. “Where is it?”

He looked at you in irritation. “Where's what?”

“Ragnarok.”

“What?”

“It was etched into the sheriff's bullet.”

He shook his head and let his arms drop. You took a step back. “That's impossible. The maw is dead.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to Garth and your daughter, who are missing.”

He shook his head again but then, suddenly, it seemed as though something dawned on him.

****

Neither Dean nor Sam picked up when you tried to call them.

You’d managed to find out from Reverend Jim that Joy, Joba and Russ were most likely the last standing of the maw of Fenris. 

Russ had been patrolling the perimeter of the barn by the farmhouse when you killed him. You donned his jacket so you didn’t tip off the other two.

The trick got you through the door but that was about it. Joba jumped you just inside, knocking your gun from your hand. You heard Dean call out for you as Joba straddled you and unsheathed his claws but you had a knife through his heart before he could think of what to do with them.

Joy was last and it was a frenzy to get to your gun before she got to hers. You both got a shot off but only yours hit its mark. 

No one said much as you untied everybody. You expected the usual relieved hugs from Sam and Dean but they didn’t so much as try to touch you.

You knew you only had yourself to blame. 

****

Bess and Reverend Jim were taking everything pretty hard but with Garth there, you’d didn’t doubt they’d make it through.

Garth had wanted to get back into hunting but Dean had convinced him not too. Gave him a speech about how he should never let go of something good. He should never let go of his happiness. And you couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking to himself or Garth.

Dean pulled into the carpark in front of the apartments Garth had been living in. The car you and Sam stole was still sitting there. 

The engine was still rumbling when he stopped. He didn’t even put the car in park, just waited for you and Sam to get out so he could take off again.

You swallowed down your disappointment and got out of the car without a word. 

Dean sighed and put the Impala in park, letting his hands drop into his lap as he watched you walk away.

He forgot Sam was even there until he said, “You’re gonna regret it, Dean. If you don’t get out of this car right now and go after her … it’s gonna be the worst mistake you’ve ever made.”

Dean looked at his brother. He was laying down the puppy dog eyes. “What am I meant to say?”

“Just tell her how you feel. You know she’ll listen. Doesn’t matter how angry she gets, she always listens, Dean.”

He was right, you did listen. As soon as Dean climbed out of the car and called to you, you stopped and turned to look at him.

Sam got out of the car as well and leaned against the door as he watched Dean approach you.

“Listen,” Dean said, his voice gravelly with emotion, “that night that, uh ... you know, we went our -- our separate ways –”

“You mean the night you split?” you said. 

Dean paused for a moment as he looked at you. Then he nodded and said, “Fair enough. I was messed up, baby. Kevin was dead, and I ... I was … I was scared. I started to wonder whether I was good enough for you and – and …”

You swallowed. “Okay.”

“Hell, maybe I still don't know. But, uh ... I know I took a piece of you in the process, and for that ...” 

He struggled with his words. Struggled to find the right thing to say. Then, he thought about what Sam said. 

“Somebody changed the playbook, baby, you know?” he vented. “It's like what -- what's right is wrong and what's wrong is more wrong, and ... I just know that when ... when I’m with you …”  
“It doesn’t seem so hard,” you finished.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a hopeful smile. “Yeah. When I’m with you … things make sense. And then Gadreel happened, and – and Kevin … and I realised what it would do to you. I just … I got scared. I didn’t think I could look after you the way I was supposed to.”

You nodded. “Okay … but there’s something broken here, Dean. With all three of us.”

Dean’s heart sunk at hearing those words. “I'm not saying that it's not. I... I just think maybe we need to put a couple W's on the board and we get past all this.”

You shook your head and gave him a sad look. “I don't think so. I wish we could … I do. But … I can’t – I can’t trust us. Not the way I thought I could. Not the way I should be able to. I mean … back in that church, talking me out of boarding up hell? Or -- Or tricking me into letting Gadreel possess me?”

“Okay, look,” Dean said, his voice desperate now. “Whatever happened ... we are family, okay? You’re my wife.”

You scoffed. “You say that like it's some sort of cure-all. Like it isn’t the reason for all those problems.”

Dean shifted on his feet and swallowed. His eyes welled up. “So, what -- we're not … is this it? Are you … are you saying you want to leave me? And – And Sammy?”

You drew in a deep breath and took a moment to bite back your own tears. If you fell apart just then, you’d never be able to get this out. You’d never be able to make him understand.

“I'm saying, you want to work? Let's work. If you want to be my husband ... I just … I don’t know if we’re on the same page anymore.”

You half expected Dean’s knees to buckle. He looked like you’d just punched him in the gut and that was what finally had your tears falling. 

You didn’t want to hurt Dean – you didn’t want to hurt Sam either – but you needed to seriously think about what you were capable of. 

You needed to think about how dangerous you became when you were with them. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to leave them but maybe you could make them understand. Maybe you could make them leave you. 

You sniffed. “Those are my conditions.”

Dean agreed and a part of you broke. A part of you – despite everything – hoped that he still cared enough to fight for you.


	43. A Captive Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After weeks of avoiding each other, you, Sam and Dean are forced to work together again when Kevin's ghost begins haunting the bunker. The only thing that will make him leave? You have to find his mother. And the longer you spend working with the brothers, the harder it becomes for you to keep pushing them away.

You paused in the doorway of the bunker kitchen when you saw Dean sitting at the table. You were just on your way to bed when you’d decided on a glass of water – the pishtaco case from earlier having worn you out. Suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea.

You went to back away without being seen but he looked up the moment you moved. The way his body changed when he saw you tugged at your heart. 

His body tensed but his face fell into a gentle, sad expression that had you feeling like he was a puppy you were beating to death. It would be so easy for you to just forgive him and Sam for everything. So easy to just slide right back into the way things were.

But that was the problem. It shouldn’t be easy to let them get away with things. It shouldn’t be hard to get angry when you had a right to be angry.

That’s not how healthy relationships worked. The three of you had become so co-dependant on one another that nothing mattered anymore. Any one of you could just go out on a random killing spree of innocent people and come back home without repercussions from the other two.

That terrified you. 

It terrified you that you loved each other so much that you could all overlook the most inhumane things, the most dangerous, selfish things, that any of you had done. 

So, yeah, it would be so easy for you to just forget about it and move on … that didn’t mean it was the right thing to do. 

“Hey,” Dean said.

You pressed your lips together. “I’m just going to bed.”

“Wait.”

You stopped. You shouldn’t have but you did. This was a conversation that needed to be had, no matter how much you dreaded it.

“Yeah?”

“About what you said the other day …” Dean said. 

You sighed in impatience. “What?”

“You know, I saved your hide on the case today. And I saved your hide at that church ... and the hospital. I may not think things all the way through. Okay? But what I do, I do because it's the right thing. I'd do it again.”

You gave him a sad look because he was only proving your point. He was reminding you exactly why you were doing this.

“And that ... is the problem,” you said. “You think you're my saviour, my husband, the hero. And vice versa … I do it too. We swoop in, and even when we mess up, we think what we're doing is worth it because we've convinced ourselves we're doing more good than bad ... but we're not.” 

Dean gave you a confused look and you knew that he honestly thought he wasn’t doing anything wrong. That he hadn’t done anything wrong. 

“I mean, Kevin's dead,” you continued, “Crowley's in the wind. We're no closer to beating this angel thing. Please tell me, what is the upside of me being alive?”

Shock filled his features. “You kidding me? You, me, Sammy. Us -- fighting the good fight together.”

You let out a sigh of frustration. You didn’t know how to explain it to him. He would never understand that you and Sam couldn’t be his top priority. That none of you were worth more than anyone else. 

You almost left then – almost admitted defeat – but with one last bout of hope you attempted to explain exactly what was wrong with the three of you.

You sat across from him at the table and he unconsciously drew back from you. He didn’t like the sudden determination in your eyes. Somehow, he knew you were about to say something that would turn his world upside down, and he didn’t want to hear it.

“You didn't save me for me,” you said. “You did it for you.”

“What are you talkin' about?” he said.

“I was ready to die. I was ready. I should have died, but you ... you didn't want to do this without me. Neither of you did. And that's what all this boils down to. None of us can stand the thought of being without each other.”

Dean didn’t like that. He didn’t like being told that his entire existence depended on this relationship. He loved you, he would die for you, he had no problem admitting that. But he wasn’t Sam … he hadn’t admitted to himself that he wasn’t willing to live without you. He still thought he could go on afterward – his life would be miserable but he thought he could do it. He hadn’t accepted what you and Sam had – that your lives literally depended on the other two being alive. 

“Alright,” Dean growled as he stood up, ready to end the conversation. 

“I'll give us this much,” you pushed, “we’re certainly willing to do the sacrificing as long as we're not the ones being hurt.”

“Alright, you want to be honest?” Dean snapped as he turned back to you. “If the situation were reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing.”

You gave him a sad look. “No, Dean. I wouldn't. Not anymore. I’m done … I’m done hurting people because I’m too scared to lose you and Sam. I’m done making our happiness the priority. It’s not worth more than anyone else’s. It certainly wasn’t worth more than Kevin’s life.”

The devastation on Dean’s face was too much to bear. So, you left him in the kitchen, alone with the revelation that you weren’t willing to do for him what he would do for you.

****

A few weeks passed and things were tense in the bunker, to say the least. Dean didn’t talk to you about what happened in in the kitchen that night. In fact, he didn’t talk to you much at all. 

The same went for Sam. You were sure Dean had told him what you said because he’d suddenly been avoiding you like the plague. Where before he was always hanging around and giving you sad, puppy eyes, now you were lucky if you saw him once a week. And even then, it was only during possible cases and Dean did all the talking.

You knew you’d hurt them but you’d convinced yourself it was necessary. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave them yet but maybe if things got too tense, maybe if they began hating you more than they loved you.

Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt so much when you finally left. 

The cold shoulder tactics came to a grinding halt, however, when the three of you woke up one morning to discover the bunker was haunted.

If that wasn’t bad enough, you’d soon discovered that the ghost had been Kevin. 

He’d only been able to stay visible for a few minutes, and before he disappeared you’d discovered that the Gates of Heaven weren’t just shut to angels. They were shut to souls to. 

They were lining up in the veil like it was the DMV with nowhere to go. 

Kevin had also asked a favour of the three of you before he disappeared. And now you were hiking through a forest in Wichita looking for a ghost named Candy. All in the hopes of finding Kevin’s mum.

“Alright, that's the trestle,” Sam said as he pointed to the train trestle just ahead. “Candy said her spirit was stuck nearby.”

“She died here?” Dean said. “Dude, what got her? A bear?”

“I'm still stuck on the fact that we're trying to summon a ghost named Candy,” you muttered as you wrapped your arms around yourself. 

You’d spent so long tucking yourself into Sam and Dean’s flannels and jackets that you didn’t own any of your own. So you were freezing your ass off in just a pair of jeans and a thin, long sleeved shirt.

Sam looked sideways at you. He looked like he wanted to say or do something but he just sighed and came to a stop by the trestle instead.

“You know,” he said, “just 'cause Kevin said he heard his mom is alive doesn't mean she –”

“Hey, we at least owe it to the kid to try, right?” Dean said.

“What'd you bring?” you said before they could start bickering.

Dean slid his backpack off and lowered it to the ground as he went through it. He pulled out a radio and hung it on a nail that was sticking out of a tree. 

“Well,” he said, “she's only been dead a week, right? So I figured she could use as much help as she can get, so ...” He pulled out the coffee maker from the bunker. The same one that Kevin had made contact through. 

“Really?” Sam said with a bitch face that you hadn’t seen in months. 

Dean shrugged and set the coffee maker on the ground. “Whatever works.”

You sighed and settled on the ground beneath the trestle, leaning back against a beam and hugging your arms around your knees to keep warm. 

The brothers followed suite and half an hour later they were already getting snarky with one another. 

“You feel that?” Sam said as he looked around. “I think I felt a chill.”

“Yeah. It's 'cause it's cold,” Dean snapped. 

You ignored them and pulled your knees tighter against you as you tried to stop your body from shaking. Whoever Candy was, whatever information she had, you hoped she showed up soon. 

Sam stood suddenly and approached you as he shrugged out his outer jacket.

“Sam –”

“Just take it, please,” he said as he held it out to you. “I can’t sit here and watch you freeze. It’s killing me.”

You looked up at him for a moment. You thought about turning him down but that would just be stupid. He was offering you his jacket, not a ring. It didn’t change anything.

You leaned forward to take it from him but the moment you moved off the beam he crouched down and slipped it around your shoulders. You watched with a feeling of sadness as he helped your arms through the sleeves before zipping it up and stretching the hem out over your knees and down your legs.

It was such a normal thing for him to do. And in the past you would have felt an overwhelming sense of affection towards his actions but now … it was just sad. Because you knew that neither of you were in that place anymore.

He lifted your hands in his and began rubbing warmth back into them.

“Sam …”

“Just shut up. Please,” he said.

Your lips curled up slightly at his words and – because you needed this affection as much as he did – you let him continue to rub and blow hot air onto your hands.

“Crowley, it's Dean.” You looked up to see Dean on the phone with a frown wrinkling his forehead. Sam kept his attention on you. “Call me when you get this.”

You couldn’t help but chuff as Dean hung up. “Really, Dean? That's your third unanswered voicemail. You ever think maybe he's just not that into you?”

Sam chuckled at your comment as he pulled the sleeves of his jacket down over your hands to keep them warm. And, for a few moments, the weight of everything that had been happening between you three lifted. 

“Well, he is our last confirmed link to Ms. Tran,” Dean said. “Yes, he is a flaming douche, but at least we know he's real, which is more than we can say for this Candy no-show.”

Just as the words left his mouth, the radio on the tree buzzed to life and snippets of a woman’s voice sounded through the static.

Sam helped you to your feet as Dean went over to investigate. 

“Is that you, Candy?” he said. “Are you there?”

Sam moved forward and began adjusting the dials on the radio until her voice came through clearer. 

“They put me in the box,” she said. “All of us in boxes, side by side. Me, Jerome, Linda.”

Dean looked at you and Sam. “Linda's –”

“Ms. Tran,” you finished.

“Candy, these boxes, where were they?” Sam said.

“I don't know. They were cold. Dark. There -- There was a vent. We could talk to one another.”

“Okay, and the walls, can you describe them?”

“Bare. Cement. Except for the door. That was ... metal, but ... like, ridged.”

“Ridged?” Dean said. “You mean like corrugated?”

“Yeah! I tried to lift the door, but I couldn't. Locked from the outside.”

“Like a storage unit?” you said to the brothers.

“Maybe,” Sam said. “Candy, who was holding you there?”

“Two men,” she said. “It was so dark in the box. When they came, I could barely see. The -- The first guy was British, I think. Kind of short. Loved hearing himself talk.”

“Crowley,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes. “What do they want?”

“Said I was worth more alive than dead. But he stopped coming. Then it was just the other guy. We thought with just him ... we'd try to escape. I ran so hard, so far, but ...”

Static began cutting through her voice again.

“Candy? Candy, are you there?” Sam said. “What about Ms. Tran? Candy?”

A moment of silence and then, “I don't know. Maybe she survived.”

“Maybe?” Dean growled. “That's not what you told her son.”

“I said she was alive,” Candy argued. “I don't know what happened after. For her sake, I hope she's dead.”

****

You leaned against the front seat of the Impala so Sam could see the map you had brought up on your phone. 

“Okay, there are three storage facilities nearby,” you said. “The closest one is about a mile up the road. Oh, and I, uh -- I dug up some stuff on Candy. Turns out she was the kept woman of a powerful Congressman. Gossip blog said he worshiped the ground she walked on, literally. He, uh -- had a foot fetish.”

“So, Crowley was holding the beloved tootsies of a powerful politician?” Dean said.

“And the beloved mother of a powerful Prophet,” Sam said.

“Human leverage,” you said. “But why kill Candy?”

“Well, you heard her. Uh, she tried to make a break for it. Maybe Crowley wanted to make an example.”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head as you thought about it. “No. No. The guy left in charge. Crowley wanted the victims alive.”

“So, what, you want to give him a medal?” Sam said. “I mean, Crowley's the one who put them in the cells in the first place.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said. “I'm just talking it out.”

“Yeah, you know, Sammy,” Dean said. “Working the case. Businesslike.”

You sighed and fell back against your own seat. You should have guessed that the more the silent treatment began to fall away to more likely Dean was to bring up your conditions and what you’d talked about in the kitchen. 

The drive was silent the rest of the way to the first storage facility. When that one didn’t pan out, it was on to the next one.

“Let me guess,” you muttered as you walked up to the front counter with Sam and Dean close behind. “5'5", pasty white, black-rimmed hipster glasses just like the last place.” 

You rang the bell and through the window behind the counter, you saw a guy pop up matching the description.

Sam and Dean chuffed.

“Nailed it,” you said as the guy walked out. His name tag said he was named Del.

“Can I help you?” Del said.

“Yeah, hi. Agents Nicks, McVie and Wanek,” you said as you pulled out your FBI badge. “Need to take a look at your, uh, rental records.”

“Uh, my manager's not here. I really don't think I should –”

“Hey! The records, pal,” Dean growled.

Del jumped in shock and nodded. “Yeah. Barry! Bring out the rental binder!”

Another young man walked out holding a binder. He looked just like your storage-unit-attendant description. You shared an amused look with Sam and Dean.

“There you go, sir,” Del said as Barry handed the binder to Dean. 

You left Dean to flick through it himself as you moved to study a map of the storage facility on the wall. 

Sam followed behind. You closed your eyes and for a moment allowed yourself to enjoy the warmth of his body at your back. The way he seemed to radiate heat like a furnace. You missed curling up with him of a night. The way he would wrap his body around you like a cocoon. 

Dean was different, the two of you tended to just sprawl across one another. But Sam … Sam protected you with his body, even in sleep. 

You opened your eyes and slid back into reality as Sam tapped his finger against a section of the map. 

“Check it out,” he said, low enough for only you to hear. “Corridor Q. Three adjacent units separate from the others. I mean, Candy said there were three hostages, right?”

You nodded in agreement and turned to Dean, motioning him over so you could take the binder from him. You tracked down the records of the units as Sam filled him in.

“Okay,” you said when you found them. “It's all leased by the same guy -- a D. Webster.”

“D. Webster? Wait. As in, like, Daniel Webster?” Sam said.

“Well, I know a lame Crowley in-joke when I see one,” Dean said.

“You guys say ‘D. Webster’?” Del said. 

You all turned to look at him.

“Yeah,” Dean said as he shared a look with you and Sam. “Yeah, you -- you seen him?”

Del adjusted his glasses in a nervous manner. “Uh, no, just ... I know his name from the records. He's leasing another unit on the other side of the facility. I could show you.”

“Yeah. That'd be great,” Dean said. He turned to you and Sam. “Alright, why don't you two take corridor Q? I'll go with, uh, Del the funky Homosapien.”

****

Sam’s hunch had been right. Mrs Tran was being kept in the centre storage unit in corridor Q.

Unfortunately, the moment you and Sam got into the unit, it closed behind you and locked itself again. 

Mrs Tran had been manacled in the centre of the room. 

As you made quick work of her locks, she pointed to a control panel by the door and said, “There's a -- there's an electrical line, leads to the control panel.”

Sam popped open the panel with his swiss army knife but the moment you got Mrs Tran out of her shackles, she was on her feet and pushing him out of the way.

“We have to unplug the ground wire first,” she said as she took his knife from him. Sam gave you an offended look over her actions. You tried not to smile – really, you did – but you couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face as you watched Sam pout. 

His eyes softened at the sight of it and he offered his own tentative smile in return.

“If this is standard U.S. colour coding,” Mrs Tran continued, oblivious to you and Sam, “it should be the green one.” She glanced at the two of you. “Helping Kevin with his engineering-club assignments, I picked up a thing or two. I'm sure he insisted, but I trust you weren't foolish enough to bring Kevin along on this mission. That you left him someplace safe?”

That was enough to wash away the happy moment you’d just shared with Sam. You took a step away from the woman and dropped yours eyes to the ground. You couldn’t look at her knowing it was your hand that killed her son.

“Of course,” Sam said quietly as he gave you a guilty glance.

She nodded and went back to work on the wiring. “Good. Now, all we have to do is get this door open, get the hell out of here, and you will bring me to my son.”

Sam closed his eyes and you knew then that he was going to tell her. He couldn’t do something as cruel as keeping the death of her son a secret. That just wasn’t the kind of man he was. Dean would have done it no problem but Sam couldn’t.

That’s why it didn’t surprise you when you’d found out that he’d tried to convince Dean – on multiple occasions – to tell you about Gadreel. You knew that if Dean hadn’t held him back, Sam would have spilled the beans within a week.

Maybe that was a big reason why you weren’t as hard on him as you were on Dean. In fact, there were a lot of reasons you were harder on Dean than you were on Sam. 

A big reason being that you knew Sam still carried around guilt about him and Amelia. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep piling the guilt onto him. 

Sam covered Mrs Tran’s hands with his own to get her attention. “Listen. Ms. Tran …” He couldn’t finish the sentence but his eyes said it all. 

Her face crumpled and your heart went with it. The beginnings of a breakdown racked her body but suddenly she steeled herself and went back to work on the wires.

“You will take me to my son,” she forced out through clenched teeth. Then she demanded the flashlight and the three of you were out of the storage unit in no time. 

You found Dean tied up in the storage unit that Del had taken him too. Barry was on the ground dead and Del, it turned out, was a demon. 

Mrs Tran got the honours of that kill. It was the least any of you could do for her.

The thought of reuniting her with her son should have been a happy one. But it wasn’t. Kevin was dead, and even though she could see him, she couldn’t touch him.

You could see it in their faces, how badly they wanted to hug one another when you brought her back to the bunker. You wondered if they replayed their last hug in their minds. 

You would have. In fact, you already did it. You kept thinking about the last time you hugged the brothers. The last time you kissed them. The last time you told them you loved them.

It just seemed like you’d never done enough. 

After going through Kevin’s things, Mrs Tran found a ring he kept in a box. It was his father’s ring, the only thing he had left of him. 

If Kevin was tethered to anything in the real world, it was that ring. 

Against the advice of you and the brothers, Mrs Tran decided to take Kevin home with her. None of you were in a position to argue with her, and she took the liberty of not asking how he died. 

She stood at the bottom of the stairs, patiently giving the three of you privacy to say goodbye to Kevin.

Dean used the moment as a last ditch attempt to tell him about the dangers of going home with his mother but Kevin wasn’t having any of it.

“She was held and tortured for a year because of me,” he said. “Now that I found her, I'm not letting her out of my sight. She's my responsibility.”

You nodded. “And you were ours. And we failed you. I –”

“Y/N. I know that wasn't you.” He smiled. “Go put a blade in that asshat who possessed you and we'll call it square.”

And you couldn’t even look at him or return his smile because you knew you weren’t going to kill Gadreel. In fact, you were going to do everything you could to keep a blade out of the angel’s heart. 

If that didn’t scream volumes about your character, then you didn’t know what would.

“Guys. Thank you,” Kevin said.

“You can thank us when we get you to heaven where you belong, okay?” Dean said. “Until then, enjoy your time with your mom. The, uh, uninterrupted, 24/7, no-escape quality time.”

Kevin grinned and shook his head. “Dick.” He went to walk away but turned back at the last second. “Hey, before I go ... will you guys promise me something?”

You looked up and nodded. Sam and Dean echoed your agreement. 

“Can you three ... get over it? Dudes, just 'cause you couldn't see me doesn't mean I couldn't see you. The drama, the fighting ... it's stupid. My mom's taking home a ghost. You three ... you're all still here. Any idiot can see how in love you guys are. Don’t ruin that over something stupid.”

You nodded and did your best to give him a reassuring smile. “Of course. Promise.”

After a hesitant look at you, once again, Sam and Dean agreed whole-heartedly. 

“Good,” Kevin said. Then he left with his mum and you pushed past the brothers and headed straight to your room.

You’d just lied your ass off to Kevin and already you could feel the guilt rotting your insides. The packet of razor blades in your top draw was the only thing that would numb it.


	44. Blade Of Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After another spat with the brothers, you're on the verge of leaving - your bag packed - when Crowley calls you. He's fallen into a drug-induced spiral but not before he tracked down where the First Blade went. A man named Magnus, and he wants nothing more than to add the Winchester's to his collection of monsters.

“What are we doing, man?” Dean said as he wrung the steering wheel of the Impala. 

You were asleep in the backseat, exhausted from the thin-man case the three of you just closed. It was the first time you’d ever killed a human, Dean thought that maybe it had hit you a bit hard.

It was easier to think that than the alternative … which was that you were always this tired. 

“What are you talking about?” Sam said as he looked at Dean.

“Us. Y/N. What the hell are we doing?”

Sam sighed and went back to looking out his window. “What are we meant to do?”

“Anything! Anything is better than the whole lotta nothing we’re doing now.”

“There’s nothing to do, Dean. She made her choice. All we can do is wait.”

“Wait?” Dean growled as he glanced at his brother. “She’s spiralling out of control, Sam. She hurts herself almost every day. And that’s if she even bothers to get out of bed. Hell, we’re lucky if she speaks to us and when she does … it’s like it’s not even her. And you’re telling me to wait?!”

“What do you want from me, Dean?” Sam snapped. “I throw away her razors when I find them but it’s like she’s got dozens stashed away. She doesn’t take her medication. She won’t go back to the psychologist. We can’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

“Like hell we can’t,” Dean muttered.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, making her do something – choosing for her – is exactly what got us into this mess in the first place.” Dean’s jaw ticked in anger but he couldn’t argue against that. Sam shifted in his seat. “Maybe … maybe she needs to … go back.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Go back? Where?” Sam gave him a meaningful look. “Are you serious? After everything, you wanna send her back? Do you even remember what she was like in there, Sam?”

“Yeah, I do. She was better than what she is now,” Sam said.

“She was surrounded by crazy people! Her own mother dumped her in the looney bin ‘cause she couldn’t handle her baggage. Now you wanna do the same? Do you have any idea what that’ll do to her?”

“We’re out of options, Dean! You said it yourself, she won’t talk to us. We can’t help her anymore.”

Dean let out a growl of frustration as he turned down into the driveway that led to the garage beneath the bunker. “Crowley.”

“What?” Sam said.

“Crowley can help her.”

“Crow – have you lost your mind? He’s AWOL.” Dean came to a halt in the garage and gave his brother a hard look. “You’ve been calling him for weeks. You think he’s gonna pick up now?”

“If you want me to leave, Sam, just say it.”

Sam and Dean’s eyes closed in guilt when they heard your voice from the backseat. They turned to look at you as you sat up, the leather seat creaking beneath you.

Sam gave you an imploring look. “Y/N. I didn’t mean –”

“Sam’s right,” you said, “Crowley won’t help me. It’s in his best interest for me to just off myself. I’ve got a one-way ticket to Hell. He’ll get all the daddy-daughter time he’s been asking for. But you don’t have to worry about me, anymore. I’ll be out by morning.”

“Baby,” Dean said as you began climbing out of the car. You slammed the door on his plea. He turned furious eyes to Sam. “Happy now?”

Sam sighed and fell back in his seat as he watched Dean climb out of the car and chase after you.

He caught up with you at the end of the line of cars. “Baby, please, wait. Sammy didn’t –”

You whirled around at the last second, cutting his sentence off as he tried not to run into you.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” you said.

“What?” he asked, confused by the sudden question.

“’Baby’. Why are you still calling me that?”

His brow furrowed. Not so much in anger but in confusion and disbelief. “Because no matter how bad things get between us,” he growled, “you’re always gonna be my baby.”

You shook your head. “No, Dean. I’m not.”

Four words. That was all it took for his feet to stick to the floor as you walked away from him. For the weight of the situation to finally hit him.

You were leaving him. Him and Sammy. There wasn’t a relationship to save anymore because as far as you were concerned … it was over.

****

You stood in the library at the top of the steps. Your duffel bag slung over your shoulder and tears in your eyes as you stared at Sam’s chest. You knew if you looked at his face you’d change your mind. You’d listen to his pleas.

To his tearful begging.

“Please,” he said. “You … you can’t go. Please. I – I don’t want you to leave, Y/N. I never wanted that. I just wanted to help you.”

“This isn’t about what you said, Sam,” you said with a sniff. 

“Then what?” he said as he took a few steps towards you. “Tell me, please. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it. I know we’ve been hitting it rough lately but we can get past this. I’ll try harder. I promise. Just, please … don’t leave me.”

Your tears fell faster and you finally looked up at his face. “I can’t, Sam. I have to leave. It’s what’s best.”

“You’re not the only one in this relationship,” he said. “You don’t just get to decide what’s best for us.”

You nodded and sniffed again. “You’re right. I don’t. But I do get to decide what’s best for me.”

Sam shook his head in denial. You half expected him to get down on his knees and cling to your legs to keep you from leaving. 

“No. No, you can’t … after everything we’ve been through together. After everything that we’ve made for ourselves … that we’ve shared with each other. You can’t just walk away. Not without a fight. I won’t let you.”

Your bottom lip trembled as you tried to swallow down your sobs. The moment you began sobbing is the moment you would lose your nerve. Because Sam couldn’t just stand there and watch you cry like that. He’d want to hold you. To envelop you in his long arms and tell you everything would be okay.

And you’d let him. 

“Let her go, Sammy,” Dean said.

Sam turned to look at his brother. Dean was sitting at the table, staring at the half empty whiskey bottle in front of him. His body was lax and his eyes were hooded, the only inclination that he was well on his way to drinking himself into a stupor.

He looked as miserable as Sam did but it was a different kind of miserable. It wasn’t desperate. It was more like he’d just given up. 

You didn’t know what hurt you more, seeing Sam beg you to stay, or seeing that Dean had given up on fighting for you.

“What?” Sam said. 

“Let her go,” Dean said again.

“You want her to go? What the hell is your problem, Dean?”

Dean looked at Sam and whatever he saw in his older brother’s face had the anger falling out of his own.

“You said it yourself,” Dean said. “We can’t make her do something she doesn’t want to do.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped and you swallowed down another sob as he turned to look at you. 

“I just need time,” you said. Your voice was quiet and it shook but you managed to get the words out.

“Time?” Sam said. “Really? It’s been months, Y/N. And I can count on one hand the number of conversations we’ve had since this all started. You’ve had time. No, you don’t get any more time. You’re my wife, Y/N. I am in love with you. Dean’s right, I can’t stop you from leaving. But you can’t stop me from following.”

Your brow furrowed in distressed as you gave him a pleading look. “Sam –” Your ringtone blared through the room. 

You tried to ignore it at first but when it didn’t stop you sighed and pulled it from your pocket as you sniffed and cleared your throat. 

You scoffed when you saw the caller ID. 

“Of course,” you muttered. You sniffed once more before you answered it. “Dean’s been calling you for weeks and all of a sudden you’re calling me?”

“Nice to hear from you too, kitten,” Crowley drawled.

You rolled your eyes. You didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with Crowley just then. 

“Did you find the First Blade?” you said.

There was a pause, then, “Not exactly.”

“Well, then, what, exactly?”

“I'm in ... a jam of sorts. Thought you might help.”

****

You sat in an armchair in Crowley’s apartment, facing the front door with your legs tucked under you as you waited for him to show up. Sam and Dean were waiting downstairs for you to bring him out. You would have come on your own but it seemed childish to prevent them from doing their job just because of relationship troubles. 

Alternatively, you could have left the bunker like you’d planned and let them talk to Crowley themselves but the King had called you. Not Sam or Dean. You. Because he needed you. And it had been a while since you’d felt needed. 

He looked surprised when he opened the door to his apartment and saw you sitting there. No doubt because you’d agreed on meeting him an hour from then in an abandoned parking lot. You knew you would never have gotten him that way, though.

He recovered with a smile and shut the door. “Hello, kitten.”

You jerked your chin towards the two dead bodies on the floor. There was another one behind you but she looked like she’d been stabbed not drained of her blood like the other two.

“What do you call that?” you said.

“Refreshments?”

You gave him a hard look before glancing at the brown paper bag he had clutched in his hand. He was trying to cover it with the edge of his coat.

“What's in the bag, Crowley?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly.

“Really?” You stood and yanked it out of his hand, ripping it open in the process to reveal a blood bag. “What, are you knocking over blood banks?” you growled.

He looked up through his lashes at you. You’d never seen him look so much like a child. You made a sound of frustration and grabbed his arm. Pushing him into the armchair, you pulled a pair of demon handcuffs from your back pocket and cuffed him to the chair. 

“Come on, kitten,” he sighed. 

You ignored him and pulled over another chair for yourself. “Look at you. You're a mess,” you snapped. “You know, we were counting on you. You let us down. Your slimy followers were counting on you to kill Abaddon, and you let them down.”

You shook your head and leaned back in the chair. 

He jangled the cuffs. “What is this? An intervention?” You rolled your eyes and he tilted his head as he considered you. “You’re sad.”

You gave him a dirty look. “I’m pissed off is what I am.”

He shook his head. “No. Well, yeah, sure. But you’re sad. Like when you were a kid, sad.” You swallowed and shifted in your seat. “What happened?”

You scoffed. “Really? You’re gonna tell me you don’t know? You’re the one who stuck needles in my brain, Crowley.”

“You think I wanted to do that?”

“I think you didn’t care whether you did or not.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. You got me. I didn’t care. But not because it was you. I could never hurt you. I didn’t care because it was that stinking winged rat I was hurting. Not you.” Your jaw ticked in annoyance. “Is that really what this is about? Why you’ve hurt yourself?” 

You shifted again and tugged the sleeves of your shirt down lower to cover the cuts. “It has nothing to do with you,” you muttered.

He narrowed his eyes. “It’s those damn Winchester’s again. Isn’t it? You need to dump them. I always knew they weren’t good enough for you. We should leave here now. Together. I’ll find you new pets. Better ones.”

You scoffed. “Oh, we’ll be leaving here together alright. But it won’t be to find me a demon to shack up with. It’ll be because those ‘damn Winchester’s’ are downstairs waiting for us.” He groaned in frustration and let his head fall back. “You need to focus, Crowley. Get a grip!” He didn’t reply. “What, you just gonna let Hell go to hell?”

He dropped his head and gave you a scowl. “You don't know what it's like to be human!” You shook your head and gave him a deadpan look. He closed his eyes briefly in regret at his words. “It's your DNA. It's my addiction, my cross, my burden!”

“Alright, take it easy.”

He stared over your shoulder like he was in some soap opera. “I see the darkness of it now, the Anthony Weiner of it. It makes you needy. I needed her.” He jerked his head over his shoulder to where the dead woman laid by the bed. “Lola used me.”

You sighed and rubbed a hand over your eyes. “Why didn’t you just call me?”

He was quiet so long that you looked up at him to make sure he was still even there. “You don’t love me as much as I love you.”

“We’ve been over this, Crowley –”

“You don’t. It’s true. You’re my daughter. I would do anything for you.” You gave him a hard look. “Okay. Almost anything. The point is, you wouldn’t. The Winchester’s are your priority. They’re tearing us apart!”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop being dramatic. They’re not doing anything. We’re just … different.”

Crowley scoffed. “Please. Not even you believe that.”

You pressed your lips together. “We don’t have time to talk about this.”

He huffed. “Fine. But there’s something you should know before you cart me off to the dungeons. Lola … she reported everything I did back to Abaddon.”

You gave him a look of warning. “Crowley ... did you tell her about the First Blade?”

He pressed his lips together in guilt. “I don't know. Things get a trifle blurry when I'm medicated.”

“Great. If you told Lola, she definitely told Abaddon.” You sighed. “Which means that Abaddon's in the hunt for this thing, too.” Just the thought of it sent shivers down your spine. You stood. “All right, you know what? This crap ends now. You're cut off. Okay? Kicking it. Cold turkey.”

****

Crowley chains rattled as he looked around the bunker dungeon. He was back in his chair, although he didn’t get the benefit of a table this time. It had been moved to the edge of the circle.

You sat on top of it and Sam sat behind it on his laptop.

“Back in this fetid pit,” Crowley said. “Could at least have added some throw pillows.”

“Focus,” you said. “Okay. You swept the Mariana Trench. And ...?”

“And the First Blade was not, as hoped, in the Trench. It had, in fact, been scooped up by an unmanned sub, from whom it was stolen by a research assistant, who reportedly sold it to Portuguese smugglers who, in turn, lost it to Moroccan pirates in a poker game.”

Sam gave him a confused frown. “What?”

Crowley gave him a contemptuous smile. “Poor moose. It's always a little tricky keeping up, isn't it?”

Sam rolled his eyes and went back to his laptop. You chuffed as you swung your legs. 

You looked back at Crowley and frowned when you caught him looking at you. There was a softness in his eyes that was unsettling. He never looked at you like that. He had his moments of affection, sure, but he was never … gentle. It was weird. 

“What are you doing?” you said. 

He chewed on the corner of his lip. “I'm still a little tainted by humanity. Makes me sentimental.”

“Well, stop. And just tell us what happened after the pirates.”

****

“Are you really gonna be okay if Y/N leaves after this?” Sam said.

He was sitting on the back of a bench in a park while Dean sat next to him. It was night and they were waiting for their lead on the First Blade to show up.

“Course not, man,” Dean said. “But what are we meant to do?”

“I don’t know. Fight? Try harder to – what are they doing?”

Dean frowned at Sam’s words then leaned forward to see what his younger brother was looking at. He sighed. You were over by the vending machine with Crowley, hitting your shoulder against it while the demon had his hand shoved through the flap.

Dean fell back against his seat with a shake of his head. “Stealing candy.”

“They are – they’re – they’re stealing candy.” Sam sighed as he scrubbed his hands over his face. 

“You know, at least when Cas was human, he was an okay guy. Should've known Crowley would be a douche version. And putting him and Y/N together is just …”

“Right? I mean it’s like they’re actually blood-related.”

Dean stood and turned to face you and Crowley when he heard another bang on the vending machine. “Hey. Hey! Cut it out, you two! Image! You're the royalty of rotten. Act like it.”

You and Crowley shared a guilty look. He went back to his own park bench and you ducked your head as you returned to Sam and Dean.

“The hell you doing?” Dean growled as he let you take his seat. 

“Hungry,” you said. 

Dean pressed his lips together, the scowl still on his face because he was meant to be scolding you but he pulled a candy bar from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and gave it to you.

You took it and looked up at him. “You still carry candy bars in your pocket for me?”

Sam chuffed. “Of course he does. The sap does it when you’re not even around.”

“Shut up,” Dean growled.

You undid the wrapper and hid your smile by taking a bite.

Your lead showed up half an hour late. He turned out to just be a facilitator between the ‘buyer’ – you – and the seller – your lead. His mouth jammed up when you pulled out your FBI badges, though. But all it took was Crowley possessing him to find out the Blade was at the National Institute of Antiquities.

Two dead guards and a flirty curator later, and the three of you found out that the Blade had been sold to someone named Magnus. The same alias the Men of Letters used when they wanted to lay low.

You’d all gone to Crowley next in an effort to find out if any other members survived the Men of Letters massacre in 1958. A lot of whining and yelling later and he was up in the library with a bottle of scotch and a porn mag while the three of you went through the membership files.

Sam sighed as he dropped his lot onto the table. “Okay, Crowley, we have gone through the records for the entire membership in 1958. Every single name matches the men who were killed.”

“That’s just the active memberships, right?” you said as you looked through your own file.

Sam and Dean looked at you. Crowley was flipping through his magazine but the smirk on his face showed that he was listening to you. 

“Crowley said a rogue member was tossed out,” you said as you looked up at the brothers. “That makes him inactive.”

Crowley looked up from the magazine. “Seriously, boys, how did you ever function without me and my brilliant daughter?”

Sam pressed his lips together and Dean rolled his eyes as he picked up a box and read the label aloud. “Infamati et obliterati.”

“Dishonoured and forgotten,” Crowley said.

Fifteen minutes later, the three of you were deep into the files of a man named Cuthbert Sinclair. He was the man who’d designed most of the warding to keep the bunker safe. They called him the ‘Master of Spells’ right after he was initiated. 

“I guess his work got a little crazy,” Sam said as he looked down at the papers in front of him. “The leadership called it ‘eccentric’ and ‘irresponsible’.”

“’Kay, so these are the projects that he proposed the last two years he was here,” you said as you pulled a bunch of files from the box. “Look at this – ‘rejected’. ‘Rejected’. ‘Rejected’.”

“So difficult,” Crowley sighed. “Brilliant, ahead of your time, despised for it. Trust me, I know.”

“Formal separation from Men of Letters -- April 1956,” Dean read.

“He missed the massacre,” Sam said.

Crowley looked up. “I never knew his name, but I heard someone was out. Did my damndest to find him. Thought he might be my way inside this joint.”

“So where'd you look?”

****

A clearing with nothing in it is apparently where he looked.

“So this is where your demons tracked him to?” Dean said as he looked around at the dead trees.

“Exact spot,” Crowley said. “My boys never could find him. I'm sensing nothing, so if he's here, he's warded up to the gills.”

“Well, he was a genius at it, right?” Sam said. “Sure as hell ain't gonna be found by a bunch of demons.”

Crowley turned and narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh, like he's gonna open his heart to you lot because you're such prizes?”

“Better -- we're legacies,” Dean said.

He and Sam moved further into the clearing as you rolled your eyes and shared a look with Crowley.

“Alright, if he's so bent on hiding, maybe he's watching. Give it a shot,” Dean said.

Sam looked around and pulled the box that held the bunker key from his pocket. Holding it up he said, “Cuthbert Sinclair -- uh, Magnus -- whatever. We're Sam and Dean Winchester, Henry Winchester's grandsons.”

“And Men of Letters, ourselves,” Dean said.

“We know what happened back in the day. We don't necessarily agree with it. We figured ... maybe you want to tell your side of the story.”

There was silence for a moment but just as the brothers were about to turn back, a smokey doorway began swirling and rising from the ground. The three of you exchanged glances before walking straight through it into a mansion.

Magnus had apparently been intrigued by Dean and Sam’s claim to their legacy. So much so, in fact, that he’d sent vamps after the three of you just to ‘see what you were made of’. 

Dean’s jaw ticked at the admission but Sam didn’t seem too phased. You were too busy looking about the cluttered – but somehow organised – seating room you were in. 

“So, what, are we underground?” you said.

“No,” Magnus said as he sat in the leather armchair across from the three of you, cup of tea in hand. “No, my fortress is right where you were standing. But it's invisible.”

“Then you must be Cuthbert Sinclair,” Sam said.

Magnus pressed his lips together and held his hand up as he put his cup of tea down on the end table. “Ugh. I haven't gone by that moniker in, oh ... 57 years now.”

Deans brows raised as he rested his forearms on his knees. “Well, you're looking good for a guy pushing ... 90?”

Magnus smiled and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Well, thanks, sport. There's a spell for damn near everything. I am impressed, though. You did exactly what you should've done. Though I am gonna miss those two from my zoo.”

You frowned. “Your zoo?”

“Oh, gentlemen,” he breathed as he leaned forward in excitement – it irked you that he hadn’t addressed you, “you are in the midst of the greatest collection of supernatural rarities and antiquities on the planet. I'm sorry. Did you say that you were Men of Letters? I thought that whole thing died out after '58.”

Sam and Dean drew in deep breaths and straightened as they glanced at each other over your head. “Well, we are -- we are legacies. But actually, uh ... we're hunters,” Sam said.

The look of shock and delight on Magnus’s face certainly wasn’t what you’d been expecting. Although, he seemed to have a bone to pick with the Men of Letters, so could you really be surprised?

“Hunters?” He threw his hands up and laughed. “Wow! Hunters. With the key to the kingdom! The boys must be spinning in their graves.” 

He leaned back in his chair and muttered, “Damn snobs. Bunch of librarians, if you ask me.” He held up a finger. “Although I was always fond of Henry. I was his mentor, you know? Yeah, till the squares gave me the boot. Yeah. 'Course, he came here to visit me, in secret. Called out to me, same as you did. Oh, yes. Quite the wild hair, your grandfather was.”

Dean nodded in thought. “Listen, Magnus, uh ... we got ourselves a little situation. Abaddon, the last Knight of Hell, is looking to up her pay grade and take over the place.”

He pressed his lips together in a tight smile. “Things never change, do they? I kept telling the boys over and over again -- I would say, ‘we could stop all this. We could rid the world of monsters once and for all if we just put our minds to it’, but, ‘oh, no,’ they said. ‘No, no, no. It's not our place. We're here to study. We're here to catalogue.”

“Yeah, yeah, no, we get it. They're, uh ... geeks.” Magnus chuffed. “But she can be stopped. But we need something that we hear you have -- the First Blade.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes and looked between Sam and Dean. You were suddenly glad that he was overlooking you because you felt the hairs raise up on the back of your neck, and you weren’t sure that your sudden wariness of him was hidden well enough.

“Hmm. I see,” he murmured. “Interesting. But if you'd really done your homework, you would know that it's absolutely useless, unless, of course, you're possessing the Mark –”

“The Mark of Cain,” Dean said as he pulled up his right sleeve to reveal the red scar on his inner forearm.

“Oh, my,” Magnus said as he leaned forward in his chair again, as though drawn to it. “How did you come by that?”

You had the sudden need to move between Magnus and Dean. To protect the Winchester with your body. Your skin crawled the longer Magnus’s eyes sparkled with desire.

“Listen,” Sam said, oblivious to the signs you were picking up, “if Abaddon takes over, the one thing she wants more than anything is to make hell on earth. Not even you can escape that.”

A grin curled his lips up as he shifted his eyes to Sam, though his head was still facing Dean. “And they say all hunters are morons.” 

You swallowed and shifted forward in your seat and closer to Dean. Dean’s eyes shifted to you instantly. His eyes went soft – an automatic reaction by now – as he watched you shift closer to him and curve your hand over his thigh. 

His brow furrowed slightly when he saw your guarded expression as you stared at Magnus as though waiting for something.

He felt the tension in your hand but before he could make sense of it, Magnus was drawing in a deep breath and leaning back in his chair.

“It's right there behind you, gentlemen,” he said.

Sam and Dean stood as they turned and saw the First Blade sitting on display behind the couch. You waited a moment and watched Magnus eye Dean before you stood and positioned yourself so your shoulder was just in front of Dean.

Dean looked back to Magnus, his body buzzing with determination now that he was so close to what he’d spent months looking for.

“Listen,” he said, “if you're serious about taking action, this -- this is taking action. You loan us that Blade, and we will stop the bitch.”

Magnus stood with a mock frown. “Hmm. Let me think about it.” He turned and pinched some green powder from a tray on the end table. “All right, I've thought about it.” He turned back, reciting a spell, and lifted the powder up towards his mouth.

“Dean,” you said in warning as you reached behind you and pushed him back, stepping back with him. 

But you were wrong. Magnus didn’t go after Dean, he blew the powder in Sam’s direction – it only just missed you – and you watched in shock as he disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

You’d been so concerned about Dean that you hadn’t even thought Sam might be in danger.

“Sammy,” you whispered to the place where he stood. 

You looked, wide-eyed, back towards Magnus. Rage began burning in your chest. Fear followed right behind it. Fear for Sam. 

Magnus tilted his head as he looked at you. His brow was furrowed in confusion but there was a small smile on his face. Almost like he was impressed. 

“What an observant little thing you are,” he said. “I admit, I dismissed you instantly but I suppose times must have changed for these two to trust you at their backs. I’m stuck in my old ways I’m afraid. But you know, I think it’s better that you’ve stayed. There’s something about you. You don’t … operate at the same frequency that I’m used to. You’re human … but not.”

Your fingers curled into your palms, more in anxiety at his words than anger, but Sam was still in the foreground of your mind.

“What did you do with my husband?!”

Magnus’s brows shot up in surprise. “Husband? Huh … don’t worry. He's fine. But I did what any good collector would do,” he brushed past the two of you and walked over to the First Blade, “I separated the ordinary from the extraordinary. I had the First Blade. And now I have the Mark of Cain to complete the set.”

Dean frowned. “Yeah, well, problem is, it's attached. So how about you loan me the Blade and I take care of business?”

You swallowed Dean still wasn’t getting it. There was no leaving without a fight.

“Dean, I am offering you the moon here,” Magnus said, “to be part of the greatest collection of all time, to be young forever. Let me teach you my secrets. Hmm? Be my companion. I have to be honest with you, it has gotten lonely here over the years. And, if Y/N here pans out to be something special, it would be nice to have a woman around that isn’t a complete savage.”

Dean’s jaw ticked and he stepped forward to partially block you from view. “You ain’t laying hands on my wife.”

Magnus frowned. “Wife? Oh, Lord, a lot has changed.”

“Yeah. We’re just gonna grab the Blade and go.”

Dean stepped forward but stopped when Magnus held up a finger and smiled. “One little design flaw to the place -- no windows, no doors.”

Dean glanced around as he drew his machete from its sheath. “Well, in that case ... I'll just make my own.”

You didn’t expect it when Magnus blew dust that time. The machete burned up, turning red with heat until Dean had to drop it. 

“Eh? Tricky little spell, that first one, right? Chinese.” You clenched your teeth and reached back for your gun, only to find it was gone. “Ah. Cheap magician's trick on that one,” he held up your gun, “picked your pocket. Nice gun. Welcome to the collection.”

****

Sam had been in utter distress when he ran back towards the Impala. His voice shook when he told Crowley that Magnus had you and Dean. 

His brother was one thing, but you? He was terrified for you. To the point that it clouded everything else in his mind. Suddenly, the fighting seemed so meaningless, the problems he was having with you seemed petty and pale in the face of the chance that he might lose you – permanently. 

He’d let you go once. He could never make that mistake again. He could never lose you again. He promised himself that as soon as he got you back he would fight.

He would fight for you. He would fight for your relationship. For your forgiveness. Be damned what Dean did. Be damned what he thought or said. 

Sam felt a sense of calm determination settle over him as he sat in the passenger seat of the Impala with the box of Magnus’s files in his lap. 

“Who would have thunk it, eh, moose,” Crowley said as he slid his hands into his pockets and watched Sam, “you and me, same team, in the trenches. When this is over, we can get matching tattoos.”

“Just to be clear, Crowley, we are not on the same anything. Anyway, shouldn’t you be worried about Y/N?”

Crowley ran his tongue over his teeth. “I have complete confidence in my daughter’s abilities. Unlike you, it seems. Besides, she’s with Dean. Much as I loathe to admit it, that lump of meat would die before he let anything happen to her.”

“Yeah, well, since the place is warded, your powers are useless, which means you are useless, even more so than usual.”

The offense was visible on Crowley’s face. “You're gonna need another set of hands when you get in there. Unless you have other volunteers in mind.”

Sam narrowed his eyes as he glanced up at him. “Thanks. Pass.”

Crowley took a few steps forward. “If memory serves me, I'm the one who helped your brother find Cain so that we could find the Blade so that Dean could receive the Mark. I'm the one who flushed that lout Gadreel out of Y/N – no thanks to you. So, lately, big boy, I've seen more playing time than you.”

Sam growled in frustration. “Crowley, will you please shut the hell up?”

The last thing he needed was Crowley undermining his ability to protect you.

****

Dean was chained to one of the pillars in the seating area. Meanwhile, you were rooted to the spot. Thanks to some powder and little Latin chant, you couldn’t move your feet, no matter how hard you tried. 

“Oh, you're a real sorry piece of work. You know that?” Dean growled at Magnus as he picked up the Frist Blade. “Holed up in here, doing nothing. You bitch about the Men of Letters. You're way worse.”

“Should we fire it up? What do you say?” Magnus said as he held the Blade up.

“Go to hell.”

Magnus sighed and moved forward, stopping in front of Dean. “Oh, come on, Dean. This is the object of your quest. Tell me Henry Winchester's grandson isn't curious to see if it works. Give me your hand.”

“Don’t, Dean,” you said.

He listened. His jaw ticked as he stared down Magnus and refused to do what he said.

Magnus gave you a hard look. “We’ll have to teach you some manners if you want to stay here, darling. My women don’t speak unless spoken too.”

Dean’s chains rattled as he tried to launch himself at Magnus. You’d never heard his growl go as deep as it did when he said, “She’s not yours.”

There was something animalistic in the way he said it. Something predatory. And for a moment you felt like a possession he was guarding. For a moment, your body came to life, and you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted him before. 

Magnus grinned as he looked back at Dean. “My, my … you are possessive. Why, you two are a matching set all on your own. I’m tempted to bring your brother back in so I can have all three of you together. You’re the walking definition of ‘mated for life’. Now, be a good boy, and give me your hand.” 

He didn’t wait for Dean to submit – he’d be waiting an eternity for that – he just grabbed Dean’s wrist and yanked it up, forcing the handle of the Blade into his hand.

Dean grunted as his fingers wrapped around it. The Mark glowed red and his body went rigid. The hand that clutched the Blade shook and there was a thump as his head fell back against the pillar. His body vibrated and his throat worked as though he were trying to fight something off. He squeezed his eyes shut with the effort and when they opened again your heart dropped. He had a faraway look in his eyes and you were worried that whatever he was fighting off was winning. Then his hand shook harder and the Blade fell from his hand. 

He slumped as a breath whooshed out of his lungs. His right hand was still shaking as he looked down at it in horror.

Magnus looked on in awe as he reached down and picked the Blade up. “That's it. Good. Next time, it'll be easier. You'll get used to the feelings, even welcome them.”

He turned back to replace the First Blade on its display stool. “You'll come to understand, Dean -- nothing can stop us. Anything, anyone we want to own or destroy is ours.”

Dean’s lips twitched as he tried to keep the sneer off his face. “Well, how about this, Magnus? How about I take a knee? Then what are you gonna do? Huh? You gonna kill me? 'Cause without this thing on my arm, that Blade's nothing but a hunk of bone with teeth.”

Magnus smiled. “Hmm. Well, I'm not asking you for your cooperation. I'm just taking it.” 

You cried out for Dean when Magnus grasped the top of his head and began reciting a spell. You tried to yank your feet off the ground and your eyes welled up in helplessness as you watched Dean’s eyes drain of … him. 

“Interesting effect, huh?” Magnus said as he glanced at you. “All thought, all will just ... drained out of him. I do this enough he'll be ready for whatever I have in mind.”

You could barely hear what he was saying. All you could do was look at Dean. He stared back with blank eyes. 

Magnus approached you and finally, you turned your eyes from Dean to narrow them at him. “Do the same to me all you like. But I promise you, you will die. And it’ll be one of us that does it.”

Magnus laughed. “Oh, darling. I don’t want to take your will away. I like the fight in you.” The smile fell from his face. “I want to break you. I want you to fear me. I don’t need a spell to do that.”

Your stomach churned at his words and all you could see in his eyes was your father. 

Dean groaned and his brow furrowed as his chains rattled when he tried to move forward. Magnus chuckled as he glanced at him. “Look at that. Even with the spell, he’s trying to protect you. Yes, I will bring Sam back I think. I’ve never seen a trio quite like you. So devoted. Loyal. So possessive. So … in love. I wonder how bad they’ll break when I make them watch what I’m going to do to you.”

Those words were still ringing in your head when Sam finally found a way back into the house. 

Magnus laughed as he pointed your gun at him. “Thank you for making it easy on me. Now I won’t have to go out into the big bad world and hunt you down myself.”

A few minutes later, Magnus had him chained to the other pillar. The gun was tucked away again to be replaced with Sam’s knife. 

“You know, I discarded you far too quickly, Sam,” he said as he waved the knife in Sam’s direction. “You're way more valuable than I thought you were.” He waved the knife towards you and Dean then. “You three … are a trio I’ve never seen before. There’s something … animal about your bond. Something pure. Soul-deep, if you will. I wonder, just what can I make you boys do … by hurting her. I imagine you could conquer the world just to make her pain stop.”

He walked towards you with a smile. The rattle of chains and grunting echoed through the room as Sam and Dean try to fight free of their binds.

Dean growled, “Magnus, I swear to God –”

“What? What are you gonna do?” Magnus said as he looked at Dean. He turned back to you when Dean only pulled at his chains again. “What is he gonna do? Huh?” 

He lifted the knife and sliced open your cheek. He smiled when you whimpered in pain. Sam and Dean’s panic rose and their thrashing became harder. You knew they’d have bruises where the chains cut in. 

“Look, darling,” Magnus whispered, his eyes lighting up with the sick kind of desire you’d witnessed as a child, “I'm not gonna kill you. Of course not.” He sliced the blade across your neck and you groaned at the sharp pain. “But I am gonna make you suffer unimaginably, alright?”

Through his terror, Dean noticed Crowley peeking through a doorway. Thankfully, the demon didn’t need to be told what to do. 

The moment Dean was free, he went straight for the First Blade. If the feelings were overwhelming before, then they were almost uncontrollable when he sliced the Blade through Magnus’s neck. 

As his body fell to the ground and his head rolled away, Dean’s hand began to shake again. Rage filled his heart and as he spotted Crowley rounding him, hunger took it over. A hunger to kill. 

He could hear someone saying his name, like an echo in the distance, but his focus zeroed in on Crowley and the Blade, and the unquenching need to kill him. 

Suddenly, a band of coolness wrapped around his forearm, soothing the burning of his skin. He looked down to find that it was a hand – your hand. He looked at your worried face and his hunger slipped away. His rage cooled into a zen-type calmness. 

You reached your other hand up to cup his jaw and he closed his eyes at the cold touch. The fire in his veins drained away as though your touch scared it off. He opened his eyes again and let the Blade slip from his fingers. It felt dirty in your calming presence.

He’d never felt or seen anything so pure, and he slid his hands to your waist in an effort to soak it up through his skin. 

He wasn’t thinking about the fact that you were no longer spell-bound. He wasn’t thinking about the constant fighting that had been happening between the two of you lately. He wasn’t even thinking about the fact that you were leaving the moment the three of you went home.

All he could think about was how unclean he was. And that you were the only thing that could purify him. You were the only thing that could scrub his hands clean. 

The only thing that could save him.


	45. Nightmare's Little Helper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending two weeks apart from Sam and Dean, you call them up suddenly when you run into a case that you can't seem to figure out. Oddly enough, Dean refuses to go and sends Sam instead, with thoughts that maybe you were right to spend time away from him.

Sam and Dean were leaning back against the side of the Impala, about a block down from the motel you were staying in, out of sight. 

After retrieving the First Blade, you’d stuck to your guns and left, Dean had been prepared for it but it had ruined Sam to the point that Dean had to negotiate the terms of your leaving, lest Sam chased after you and did something stupid.

The terms were: you stayed at a local motel, neither Sam nor Dean were allowed to contact you or see you for a minimum of a month unless you initiated it, and, most importantly, it wasn’t over. 

That had been the most important thing. The relationship wasn’t over. This was just a break. After two weeks, you had to send them both at least one message to tell them you were okay. After a month, you had to meet with them face to face to decide where to go from there. 

Dean was confident that the month away from him and Sam was good for all of you. He hadn’t been on board at first but after he saw the way you tried to protect him in Magnus’s home, he was confident that this could still be salvaged. 

That he wasn’t as close to losing you as he’d thought. 

He realised that he needed this month just as much as you did. He needed this month to come to grips with what he’d learned from Cain and explain it to Sam. He needed to try and put himself in your shoes. He needed to think about whether or not you were right to think him reckless and selfish for putting his relationship with you above everything else.

He wanted to try and understand why you didn’t want to put it above everything else. Why you felt guilty for doing it.

Sam, on the other hand, was just a nervous wreck. He spent half his time moping about the bunker and sleeping with a shirt you’d left behind. The other half he spent borderline stalking you. 

It was another thing that Dean had the month to think about. He was beginning to wonder if Sam was even able to function without you around. 

Sam’s foot was bouncing against the ground as he watched a pizza delivery boy walk towards him and Dean. He pushed off the car the moment the kid was in talking distance and began the interrogation. 

“Is she okay? Does she look like she hasn’t slept? Did she eat the pizza? Does it look like she hasn’t been eating?”

Dean sighed and stepped forward to save the kid from Sam’s hulking, overwhelming presence. 

“Why don’t you just tell us how she’s doing and you can go,” he said.

“Okay. She’s fine. Can I have my money now?” Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out a ten. “Ten bucks? You said twenty.”

“You got twenty,” Dean growled. “That was my wife you were talking to. You think I don’t know she paid you to tell us she was fine? Take the cash before I change my mind.”

The kid grumbled but he took the money and left.

“Dean, what the hell? You really think she paid him off?”

Dean gave his brother a confused look. “Of course she did. Do you even know who we’re dealing with?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Well, aren’t you worried?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m gonna go see her myself.”

Dean pulled Sam back by the arm. “Slow down, man. Of course I’m worried. I’m always worried for her. But ‘a’ it’s barely been a week. If you go up there now she’s gonna be pissed. ‘B’ I know for a fact she’s fine.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue but reconsidered when Dean’s words sunk in. “How?”

“Cas.”

“Cas?”

“Cas. He’s gone invisi-girl. He’s in there right now.”

Sam scoffed. “No way. She’d know the second he stepped foot in there.”

“Oh, she did,” he chuckled. “He got an earful too. But she hasn’t kicked him out yet.”

“It’s taken you a week to tell me this?” Sam snapped. 

“Are you kidding? You’ve been a 13-year-old emo kid since the moment she left. I can’t tell you anything.” 

Sam pressed his lips together at the slight but said, “So … so she’s okay?”

Dean gave him a reassuring smile. “She’s okay. She hasn’t had a panic attack, so far. And … and she only tried to hurt herself once. Cas stopped her. She still has nightmares, though. And flashbacks.”

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t do this for a month, Dean.”

Dean nodded. “Me neither. But … we have to. She’s not happy, Sammy. And if this is what it takes to make her happy. To – to get her back … hell, I’d buy a one-way ticket back to hell just to have that.”

****

You sat at the small table in your motel room. Your cheek squashed up as you rested it on your fist and stared down at the laptop screen in front of you.

You rolled your eyes as a shiver raked down your back.

“Cassie, I already know you’re here. Kind of defeats the purpose doesn’t it?”

There was a huff and then Cas appeared on the other side of the table with a bitch-face you just knew he learned from Sam. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said.

“I really think it’s unwise –”

“You’re an angel. You think everything humans do is unwise.”

He opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut when he had no words to combat yours. “That’s beside the point,” he grumbled as he sank down into the chair across from you. “I don’t understand why you, Sam and Dean are spending this time apart. In the thousands of years I’ve been alive, I’ve witnessed … well, I’ve never witnessed a love quite like the love you three share.”

The words fell out of his mouth onto the table and he had the odd feeling that they’d just driven a blade through his heart. 

Nevertheless, he persisted: “When you love someone, you’re supposed to care for them. Not leave them in their moment of need. Sam and Dean should be here.”

You lifted your head and looked at him. “You’re right. You don’t understand.”

Cas pressed his lips together. He had the sudden urge to say, “I do. Because I love you,” but he didn’t. 

Dean’s words still rang in his head: “She’s spoken for, twice over. Not even over mine and Sam’s dead body will that ever happen. So, whatever thoughts you have about her, whatever you think you feel for her. Bury it. Bury it so deep you forget it was ever there.”

“Being in love means you have to do what’s best for the other person,” you said, pulling Cas back to the presence. “Even if it’s not what’s best for you.”

Cas nodded once and dropped his eyes to the table. He thought that would be the end of the conversation. He certainly wasn’t going to continue it, not when he was balancing on the edge of confessing everything he’d been told he couldn’t have.

But then, you leaned across the table and did something extraordinary. He shouldn’t have been surprised. 

You smiled, a thousand-watt smiled that disguised every hardship you’d suffered, and leaned across the table like an excited child. “Have you ever been in love, Cassie?” 

“Yes,” he said. 

It slipped out before he could grab a hold of it. And, for a moment, he hated himself more than he had ever hated anyone before. Because he knew, with that one word, he had betrayed Dean. With that one word, he had proved that he was the worst kind of selfish. The kind of selfish that ruined people’s relationships. The kind of selfish that ruined their lives. 

But then your eyes lit up and your smile grew and he was taken back to when you were a child. He’d told you he was an angel and your face had lit up with the kind of childish excitement that you looked at him with now. 

“Really?” you said.

Only once, he thought. She’s sitting right in front of me. 

“You seem surprised,” he said instead.

The smile didn’t leave your face but your brow furrowed slightly, as though you were confused by your own feelings. 

“I guess I am,” you said. “I shouldn’t be, right? I mean, you’ve lived for thousands of years. And Gadreel …” 

Your smile faltered and Cas watched your face. He could almost see your thought process in your eyes. The way your mind whirred to life. He knew then, with a sudden realisation, that you were keeping a secret. 

Then your smile lit back up and he was drawn, once again, into its brilliance. “What was she like?” you said. “Or he?”

Cas’s lips curved up in a smile. Only you would steer clear of assumptions like that.

“She,” he said, because he couldn’t deny you this. He couldn’t deny himself this. Exhilaration flooded his body. The relief was powerful. To finally tell you, however indirectly, that he was in love. 

To finally tell someone. 

He let the fear slip away and thought for a moment on how he could possibly describe you. And then he had it.

“She always reminded me of an electrical storm,” he said. “She just … she would roll in wherever she wanted to. And she didn’t much care if people wanted her there or not. There was a feeling about her that made your hair stand up. She would frighten and excite you all at the same time. And people …” He smiled and shifted in his seat so he could lean across towards you. “People always had something to say about her. But … whether bad or good, when she passed … she left everyone in awe. A sort of … child’s wonder. And they never could see the battles that waged inside of her. But they could hear the thunder. When she finally leaves them … no matter how much they hate or love her … everyone will feel that loss.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

It was so soft that Cas almost missed it. A figment of his imagination, he thought. But he didn’t miss the furrow of your brow or the sad look in your eyes. He didn’t miss the way your mouth formed the words. 

“Why?” he said. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because she broke your heart. No one deserves that.” He frowned and you gave him a sad smile. “It’s written all over your face, Cassie. That kind of heartbreak … it leaves scars. Visible ones. She sounds beautiful, she does.” You chuckled. “Wondrous even. Exactly what I imagine an angel to be. But … no matter how awe-inspiring she might be … you deserve better. You deserve someone who’s going to love you back.” A tear rolled down your cheek and he fell right back into that awe you seemed so saddened by. “You deserve someone that’s going to see you as magnificently as you see her.”

How tragic he felt in that moment, that even you – the woman who fell in love with broken warriors – could be saddened by his love story. 

He wished that he would have listened to Dean. 

****

Another week passed – a week of Dean’s obsession with Abaddon increasing – and finally, the time for your ‘I’m doing okay’ text message came up.

Only, the brothers got a phone call instead. And it wasn’t an ‘I’m doing okay’ message, it was an ‘I’m working a case and need your help’ message. 

You’d caught wind of it online. A first-grade teacher had come home and beat her husband into ground chuck. You’d guessed possession but when EMF and sulphur turned up nothing, you were ready to bail. 

Until you had to take down a kid in the local diner because he went crazy on his waitress and stabbed her with a steak knife. When three more popped up with no signs of possession you knew you needed help. 

Much to everyone’s surprise, Dean made Sam go help alone and buried himself in work. 

It wasn’t that Dean didn’t want to see you. He did. More than anything. More than he wanted to find Abaddon, and that was saying something. But Sam needed it more. And Sam couldn’t get what he needed from you with Dean there.

It was hard on Dean, being away from you, but with Cas giving him regular updates and the knowledge that you would be home in just a few weeks, he could pull through.   
Sam couldn’t.

No matter what Dean did, he may as well have been invisible. He’d never seen Sam so miserable. Not when John died. Not even when Jess died. 

At first, it didn’t seem so bad, just the typical relationship blues, but then it got worse the longer you were away. Sometimes, Dean wouldn’t see him for days at a time. He didn’t go on hunts anymore. Only ate when Dean made him. And he slept most hours of the day.

Dean was scared to admit it, but Sam was acting the same way you did when you fell into a depressive episode. 

And, finally, Dean realised why you had left. Why you had been so adamant that the three of you being together wasn’t a good thing.

The relationship was unhealthy. Dean could see that now. The three of you had fallen into a dark pit of co-dependency to the point where you could barely function without each other. Hell, Sam couldn’t function without you. 

Except … it changed nothing. Knowing this – admitting it – didn’t change Dean’s stance on the matter. He didn’t care if his relationship with you ruined his friendships. He didn’t care if it ruined the world. He didn’t even care if it killed him and Sam. 

He wanted – needed – you. Knowing how unhealthy the three of you were together didn’t change that. 

Never had he been more selfish, than the moment he decided he was going to keep you – even if he had to hunt you down – knowing he was the last person on earth you should ever be with. And he’d sent Sam to make sure it happened.

Because there was no way you could say ‘no’ to Sam. You’d never been able to say ‘no’ to Sam. Not for long anyway. 

Sometimes Dean wished you couldn’t say ‘no’ to him, but then he thought about how fiery you were, the way you held your chin up in defiance, the way it made his blood boil and the adrenaline rush through his body. 

And he realised … he loved it when you told him ‘no’. He loved fighting with you just as much as he loved making up with you. He loved the way he had to work for you. He loved that it was never easy. That you never took his crap. That you gave as good as you got. 

Yeah, he was an asshole for putting you through that, but he was selfish enough not to care as long as he had you by his side. 

And if that didn’t make him the worst of the worst … he didn’t know what would.

That, coupled with the ever-growing hunger to wrap his hand around the First Blade and kill again, had him sitting in a bar, about as drunk as he could get at this point in his life, leaving a hang-up call on Crowley’s cell. 

He was on the phone, getting an update from Sam, and all he could do was wish it was you on the other end of the line. 

“They’re all the same,” Sam said, “aggressive, violent, impulsive.”

“Sounds like you're in a Gold's gym,” Dean said as he scrubbed a hand over his tired face before signalling the bartender for another drink. 

“Yeah. Except it's less steroid-induced, and more ... basic instinct. It's like the littlest things can set them off.” There was a pause. “Kind of like me.”

Dean frowned. “You?” His little brother was a lot of things but impulsive and aggressive he was not. 

“Yeah, uh, soulless me. Remember that?”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, how could I forget? But you weren't out of control like these people.”

“Yeah, well, maybe everyone has a different reaction to losing their soul.”

“Possible. So, what? A crossroads demon making deals and taking people's souls?”

Dean could practically hear Sam’s mind turning. He’d always been the smart one. “No, I don't think so. I mean, it's not as if these people are winning the lotto.”

“Okay. Uh, well, that was my best swing.” 

Sam scoffed. “I hope not, Dean. We could really use your help down here.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sam, we both know you don’t need me there. You guys are a couple of badasses. You got this.”

“Dean …”

“Look, Sammy, Y/N was right, okay? Me and her … we need this month apart. That doesn’t mean it’s over. Right? Over my dead body will me and her break up. But … we need this. You and her … you guys need to be together. You need her, Sam. You won’t last the rest of the month. Just … convince her to come home when it’s up.”

Sam heaved out a sigh and Dean knew he had him. 

“Fine,” Sam said. “I don’t get it … but fine. She misses you, you know? Us. She even hugged me when I saw her. It’s been so long since she’s just …”

“Yeah,” Dean murmured, “I know. I, uh, I miss her too, Sammy.”

“I’ll tell her that.”

“Don’t. She, uh, she knows.”

There was a pause. Then: “Does she?”

Those words were still ringing in his head when he hung up. Did you know how he felt? He thought that he showed it enough but maybe … maybe you had just as many doubts as he did. Maybe you were just as insecure as he was. 

He vowed then, that the moment he saw you, the first words to leave his mouth would be, “I missed you.”

“I guess this kind of makes me your mistress.”

Dean’s eyes closed at the sound of Crowley’s voice. He missed the days where he could have killed the bag of dicks without blinking an eye. 

And then he fell in love with the King’s daughter. The Princess of Hell. He shouldn’t have been shocked you were the one he’d settle down with. 

****

“Didn’t that kid’s girlfriend say he got picked up by a van?” you said as you and Sam watched the security footage in front of you. 

It was from the parking lot of the grocery store that the first-grade teacher had been last seen at. There was a black van and she was talking to whoever was in the driver’s seat. It had St. Bonaventure printed on the side.

Your first lead. 

Sam opened his mouth to answer but stopped when there was a commotion at the front desk. 

An older lady marched right up to the officer on duty and said, “Now, listen to me, young man. Those demons are back. I'm telling you, it's happening all over again.”

Your second lead.

When the lady began getting heated and the officer patronising, Sam stepped in and brought her to take his seat next to you. Her name – which she graciously gave after Sam made her some tea – was Ms. Wilkinson.

“Now, why don't you tell us all about these demons, Ms. Wilkinson?” you said when she thanked Sam and wrapped her fingers around her mug.

“Please, call me Julia. It's very simple, Agent. They ... they came to Milton.”

“And?” Sam prompted when she didn’t continue.

Julia frowned slightly. “I say ‘demons,’ and you don't bat an eye when everyone else around here thinks I'm nuts on toast.”

Sam smiled as he glanced at you. You found yourself returning it. It had felt like millennia since you’d seen his smile. You missed it. 

“Maybe we’re just a bit more open-minded than most,” Sam said when he looked back at Julia. 

“Maybe.” She paused a moment. “You're one of them, aren't you?”

“Sorry. One of who?”

“Men of Letters.”

Sam looked back at you, the shock evident on his face. 

“They came here in 1958,” Julia continued.

You leaned towards her. “Men of Letters ... came here?”

Julia nodded. “Oh, yes. It was different then. I was different. They were a lovely couple.”

It was then that she told you the story of when she was a nun in a church filled with demons, and a man and a woman showed up at the doors to scare them away. 

The best part was when you found out the man was Henry and the woman Abaddon … or her vessel. You didn’t find out exactly what she’d been doing to those people in the basement of that church, but when the Men of Letters came a knocking, she hitched a ride back to home-base with them and left her minions behind to continue her work. 

****

Dean’s irritation grew the longer Crowley stuck around. He was at the pool table now, racking up the queue of pool balls with his arms until he was sure he left bruises. 

“What do you want?” he growled.

“You tell me, Romeo,” Crowley said, a smile on his face and his hands in his pockets. “You rang. Let me guess -- you butt-dialed me?”

“Whatever the hell that is,” Dean muttered as he positioned the balls over the white dot and began sorting them. “Either way, we done here?”

“Actually, long as I'm here, last time we chitchatted, we agreed that you were gonna line up Carrot Top.”

Dean pulled the triangle off the balls and moved to the pool queue rack. “Yep, well ... I'm on it.”

“Unless Abaddon likes 10-cent wings, stale beer, and the clap, I doubt that she's here.”

“Go to hell.” The words were half-hearted – empty – as he pulled a queue from the rack and moved to the end of the table to take his shot. 

“Oh, if only. What's going on with you, huh? You call me, you hang up. You want Abaddon, you don't want Abaddon. You want the Blade, you don't want the Blade. If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you're stalling.”

Dean’s jaw ticked as he sighted up the queue and broke the balls. 

“Just between us girls,” Crowley said as he watched Dean move around the table, “how did you feel when you sunk the First Blade into Magnus' head?”

Dean looked up from sighting his next shot. “Not half as good as I'm gonna feel when it's yours.” He took the shot – sunk it. 

“Love it when you talk dirty. But we both know it’s an empty threat. Now that we have a mutual love and all. You know what I think? I think you felt powerful ...” He walked around the end of the table, trailing his fingers along the green lining. “Virile ...” He scooped up the white ball and stopped in front of Dean. “And afraid.”

Dean scoffed as he straightened. He’d been called many things, but afraid wasn’t one of them. Only you knew that he got scared sometimes.

“Afraid?” He swiped the ball from Crowley’s hand when he held it up.

“Don't scam a scam artist, darling,” Crowley said. “You're stalling 'cause you're scared.”

It went on like that between them until Dean felt himself sobering up. He went straight back to the bar to drink himself stupid. Much to his dismay, Crowley followed.

“I love this,” Crowley said as the bartender put two beers in front of them. “I really do. Couple of cold ones, a kind jukebox ... good and evil, bro-in down.”

“Shut your pie hole, Crowley,” Dean growled. 

“Yeah, you said that already. Look, I merely suggested you might be a bit scared.”

“Yeah. No, I heard you the first time. You still don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

Crowley smiled. “But I bet Y/N does, right? She could never put a step out of line in your eyes. And you know she’d be saying the exact same thing I’m preaching now. You know what I do know? I know that Cain gave you his Mark for a reason. And I know that rather than embracing it, rather than looking at it as the gift that it is, you're sulking like you lost your knuffle bunny. Why are you fighting what you really are?”

“I'm a hunter.”

“Who's a chip off the old Mark of Cain.”

Dean’s lip snarled up as he leaned in close to Crowley. “No. When I kill, I kill for a reason. I'm nothing like Cain.” He leaned back, leaving behind a look of bewilderment on Crowley’s face.

“Nothing like -- who are you talking to?” he exclaimed. “I know you're not talking to me.”

“Eat me.”

“I saw you. I saw the two of you together. Nothing like Cain? What's in that bottle? Delusion?” He paused a moment as a realisation hit him. “You’re scared Y/N won’t love you anymore. That’s it, isn’t it? You think that if you’re exactly like Cain she’s not gonna love you.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, news flash bucko, she’s already been in love with Cain. You’re just her type.”

“I said shut up,” Dean snapped as he slammed his hand down on the bar top. 

The bartender and few patrons looked his way, he nodded his apologies to the bartender before pressing his lips together and settling back down. 

Crowley scoffed. “You both think you’re too monstrous for one another. Match made in heaven you are.”

“Why don't you just worry about yourself?” Dean muttered as he lifted his beer to his lips. 

“I will. 'Cause like it or not, we're in this together. Your problems, my problems ... our problems.” He got up then and walked towards the back of the bar. 

Dean sighed. “Where you going now?”

“I'm going to go water the lily. Care to cross streams?” Dean rolled his eyes and lifted his beer again. “So serious.”

When Crowley came back, Dean was paying his bill and getting ready to leave.

“Demons don't take leaks,” Dean said. “Next time you want to shoot up, why don't you find a better excuse?”

Crowley smiled. “Guilty as charged.”

“What happened? I thought you were cleaning up your act.”

“Well, I was going to,” Crowley shrugged, “but then after very little soul-searching, I decided to embrace my addiction. What about you? Takes a junkie to know a junkie. You just want to touch that precious again, don't you?”

“I want to kill Abaddon,” Dean growled. “That's what I want. So, whatever happens with the Blade, I can't worry about that.”

“Sure. Whatever you got to tell yourself so you can sleep better at night.”

“Look, what I want, what I fear, none of that means squat. Because this is the one chance that we have to kill Abaddon. So, I'm all in, no matter what the consequences.”

“My, my. Cain’s story about our precious little kitten really did rattle you, didn’t it?”

Dean rolled his eyes, tired of being the only one that was worrying about what Cain said. “And you’re not?” he snapped. 

Crowley shook his head. “It changes nothing between me and her. In fact, I’m a proud daddy. Who knew she’s been sticking it to the Man all these millennia. Let me guess, you haven’t told her yet. Or Sam.” 

Dean’s eyes shifted away in guilt. Crowley tsk-ed him with a smile and left.

**** 

Abaddon had been harvesting souls in the basement of that church, keeping them in jars, and it wasn’t the only place she was doing it. There’d been two demons running the show at Bonaventure. The driver went down easy, but the other one – Abaddon’s lacky from back in the day – put up a hell of a fight. Even knocked Sam out cold before you drove the demon blade through her heart and pushed her into the shelf of souls. 

The jars shattered underneath her vessel’s dead body, the shining blue souls floated up and out through the vents – back to their owners. 

You fell to your knees beside Sam. It took him five minutes to wake up, and by the time he did you were practically shaking with fear.

No matter what you’d done, you couldn’t get him to wake up sooner, so when he opened his eyes and propped himself up with a groan, you pressed your lips to his. 

It shocked the both of you. He hadn’t expected it and, after everything, you didn’t think yourself capable of it. But there you were – teeth banging against one another as though it was your first kiss. 

You pulled back as quick as it happened and he was too surprised and confused to stop you.

“Wh-What? I don’t …” 

“I don’t know,” you said. It took you a minute to figure out you were crying, and it was only because you felt the tears drop onto your hands. “You – you wouldn’t wake up. And then … you can’t die before we make up, Sam.”

He was silent for a moment as he contemplated things. What he really wanted to do was pull you back down for another kiss. But you were crying and, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out if it was for him or because of him. 

“Will we, though?” he finally said, his voice soft with hesitation. “Make up, I mean.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. But … I need you.” A sob escaped your throat and you let your head hang. “I need you, Sammy.”

And that was all he needed. He cooed you into a sense of calm as he sat up fully and pulled you into him. He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing his hands up and down your back and arm as he pressed kisses into your hair. Enough times that he thought he would never get the taste of you off his lips. And he was okay with that. 

“I’m here,” he murmured into your ear as you clutched at him. “I’m not going anywhere. Not even if you tell me to.” 

****

Dean’s feet were frozen to the ground as he stared at you. You stood at the top of the library steps, your duffel bag over your shoulder and uncertainty on your face.

Dean hated that. The bunker was your home. You should never feel unwelcome there. 

“Hi,” you said as you hiked your bag up a little higher on your shoulder. 

“I …” the words died in his mouth. ‘I missed you’ – that’s what he’d promised himself he’d say. But the doubt seeped in. The fear of rejection. His mind wondered back to the moment in the backseat of his Impala when you’d put your hand over his mouth because you couldn’t stand to hear those words. 

You drew in a deep breath, disappointment evident on your face as you glanced away from him. It wouldn’t be until later that night when he realised you were waiting for him to say those three words. That you were hoping for it.

He should have said them. But he was nothing if not a Winchester.

“I’m back because we have to find Abaddon ASAP,” you said. “She’s mining souls to build an army.”

You brushed past him, and instead of facing everything that happened … instead of telling you that he missed you, that he needed you to stay this time, he dove right back into work and drank until he couldn’t remember how stupid he was being.


	46. Meta Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers have finally caught Gadreel, now you're stuck in a tug-of-war between the three of them - trying to keep Gadreel alive without jeopardising your relationship with the brothers. Except ... them leaving was exactly what you'd been wanting ... wasn't it?

You swiped your hand through the condensation on the mirror. You stared first at you own tired eyes and the dark circles beneath them. Then your gaze dropped down to your naked body, small rivulets of water still dripping down from your damp hair. 

You lifted your arm and looked down at the fading cuts on your inner wrist. It had been weeks since you hurt yourself, not that you hadn’t wanted to – hadn’t felt the urge to release all the pent up emotion that you didn’t know how to deal with – it’s just that you couldn’t. You’d promised people that you wouldn’t. People you loved. 

Even Crowley had made you promise. Then they banded together and got rid of all your razor blades. You weren’t even allowed access to the weapons unless you were on a hunt or someone was with you.

You felt like a child. 

You didn’t know it but Dean was standing on the other side of the wall, looking at his own reflection – at his own scar.

The Mark of Cain burned in his skin and with it came the never-ending urge to wrap his fingers around the First Blade and sink it into something.

****

Sam was on the phone as he poured over a bunch of files in the library. “Yeah. All right. Thanks, Carlos. Listen, you, uh, if you catch wind of any other demon activity, give me a holler, alright? Appreciate it.” He hung up just as Dean walked in. “Hey.”

“Anything?” Dean said. 

“Yeah. A dozen demon-related cases, people without souls acting out, but ...”

“But no sign of Abaddon.”

Sam nodded. “Right. Looks like she's vanished.”

“Well, we just got to keep digging.”

Dean rubbed his hand against the Mark where it peeked out beneath his rolled-up sleeve.

“You okay?” Sam said.

“Yeah. I'm fine.”

They both looked up when you walked in. Sam didn’t miss the way you rubbed your hand over your own scars much like Dean did. 

“How’re you feeling?” Sam said, knowing he’d get much of the same answer.

“Fine,” you said. “Let’s get to work.”

It hadn’t even been half an hour before Cas was calling with news. Gadreel had been luring in angels to recruit for Metatron. Those who didn’t join were slaughtered. 

It made you sick that his actions didn’t make you think less of him. 

Neither of the brothers seemed happy about his team-up, though. So, you wisely kept your mouth shut. You kept telling yourself that you were waiting for the right time to tell them about what – who – you were, but you were beginning to think you were just being cowardly.

“And Gadreel said that angels are returning to heaven?” Dean said as he leaned against the table over your mobile. “How? I thought that the spell was irreversible.”

“That's what Crowley said,” Sam said. “Look, let's just find Gadreel and ... and beat some answers out of him.”

“Yeah, here's something to start with that,” Cas said over the phone. “Uh ... hold on, I'm, uh ... sending you a photo of the symbol that drew all the angels in.”

Sam moved to sit at the end of the table and opened his email. “Okay. Got it.”

“It's acting as some kind of angel siren. I think it's a spell. The ingredients used to create it were very odd ... griffin feathers, bones of a fairy. I've never seen it before.”

“Yeah. Me, neither. Alright. Let me see what I can find.”

The was silence from the other end of the line for a moment, then: “Honour bar. What's honourable about a miniature bar in a motel room?”

You snorted. “Everything.”

Cas’s voice was gentle as he said, “How are you, Y/N?”

You shifted as Sam and Dean looked at you. “I'm fine, Cassie. How 'bout you?”

“I miss my wings. Life on the road ... smells.”

“Yeah. Listen, I got a match,” Sam said, “and it's not from the lore ... it's from police records. Looks like that symbol you found was spotted at a handful of crime scenes the last couple days, all multiple homicides.”

“And where were these crime scenes?”

“Uh, Utah ... Baker, Hill Valley.”

“And I'm in Bishop's Falls, Utah,” Cas said.

“Also, looks like most of the crime scenes were in industrial areas.”

There was a crinkling of paper over the phone, like Cas may have been looking at a map. “Looks like Gadreel is heading north.”

“What's the next big town?” Dean said.

“There are two. It could be Auburn or Ogden.”

“Alright, you take Auburn, we'll take Ogden ... meet in the middle.”

****

When Cas hung up, he grabbed his packed bags and prepared to leave his motel room. Before he made it to the door, the lights began flickering and the television switched on. He frowned in confusion as he watched an episode of Casa Erotica start to play.

“That's inappropriate,” Cas mumbled as he set his bags down and went to try and turn the television off.

When none of the buttons worked, he stepped back and watched as the woman on screen opened the door to her apartment. His lips parted in shock when he saw Gabriel standing there. 

“Hello,” Gabriel said. “Remember me, bucko?” 

He smiled and clicked his fingers. The television shut off and the hairs on the back of Cas’s neck rose. He turned to find Gabriel standing by the bed.

“I need your help, brother.”

Cas moved forward. “I thought you were dead.”

“Please. You can't take the trick out of the Trickster.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “So, I assume you faked your own death?”

“And I assume you weren't let into Mensa while I was gone.”

“Where have you been?” Cas said. 

“Oh, you know,” Gabriel said as he began wondering about the room, “hither with a side of yon. I was hiding, captain side eyes, in the safest place in the universe ... heaven. But then you and the other three stooges had to go and ruin Christmas, now, didn't you?”

Cas shifted on his feet and gave Gabriel a guilty look. “Sorry.”

“Oh, cry me a river. Look ... I dropped, I hid, I finally watched Downton Abbey. But then, your BFF, Metatron, sent his minions out looking for me. Apparently, he thinks since I'm an archangel that I have extra juice.”

“And that you're a threat?”

“Yeah, but I got hurt in the fall, too, used most of my juice to get back into porn.” There was a pause and Cas frowned. “That came out wrong. So did that. Uh, the point is, I've been on the run. But then, a few weeks ago, somebody started playing my song.”

Gabriel collapsed down onto the couch on the far side of the room. 

“The angel siren,” Cas said as he moved to stand on the other side of the coffee table.

“No. The horn of Gabriel ... one of Dad's little party favours that I never got around to messing with. Metatron dug it up and started blowing, so I came out of hiding.”

“Why?”

“There's safety in numbers,” Gabriel leaned his forearms against his knees. “But Metatron was using it to trap angels, not unite them.” 

“It wasn't Metatron. It was his second in command ... Gadreel.”

“Gadreel? That old Chestnut?” Gabriel said in shock. “Well, I guess I can’t be surprised with my old pal Y/N on the loose again. He’s an easy fix. Just throw her at him.”

Cas frowned. “What? I – I don’t understand. What does Y/N have to do with it?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Gabriel chuckled. “I suppose she was before your time. I’m just glad Metatron was never worthy enough to remember her. You’d be fighting a losing battle, my friend. 

“What are you talking about?” Cas growled as he took a step forward.

“Relax,” Gabriel said as he stood. “I’ll tell you all about it in the car.”

“The car? Where are we going?”

“I need your help, Columbo,” Gabriel said as he came around the coffee table and patted Cas’s shoulder. “I'm getting the band back together. We're going on the kill Metatron tour, and you're looking at the new front man.”

****

As soon as the three of you got to Ogden, Dean drove to a hunter’s shop to meet up with a guy named Ian. He’d helped the brothers on a case a long time ago before they met you. 

On a stroke of bad luck, you rocked up to the store to find Ian dead and hanging from the coat hook on his office door. His eyes had been burned out of his head and there was evidence that Gadreel had been there looking for ingredients to make another angel siren.

The good news was that you managed to track his car to an alleyway nearby. You laid in wait, the brothers standing on a fire escape that overlooked the alley while you stood below, waiting for the angel who insisted you loved him.

You hoped, at the very least, you could protect him from Sam and Dean.

You should have been on their side. You should hate the angel – be disgusted by his actions. But every time you convinced yourself to, you remembered what he’d said about Kevin. That you would have killed the kid if he’d stood between you and the brothers. And you’d realise that you’re no better than him. You’d only be a hypocrite if you hated him. 

You looked up and straightened when you heard boots scuff against the concrete. Gadreel stood frozen by his open car door as he looked at you. You didn’t think he could see you through the dark, but you weren’t entirely sure. 

It became apparent that he recognised you once he was halfway down the alley. His eyes lit up and he even allowed a small smile to adorn his face as he approached, but it fell away as he looked around. 

You’d been right, he was too distracted by you to notice the brothers or the fact that he’d stepped right into the middle of a ring of holy oil.

“What are you doing here, Y/N? It’s too dangerous. If Metatron finds out …”

“Come home with me,” you said.

He frowned. “What? No. I – I … we have talked about this. I’m so close to getting Metatron what he wants and restoring you to your rightful place. And the Winchester’s –”

“I can handle them.”

He gave you a soft look. One that said he adored you, but you had no clue what you were talking about. He moved forward, stopped just at the edge of the circle, in front of you. He cupped your face in his hands and you let him because … well, you didn’t know why. 

It wasn’t right for you to feel this way, to let Gadreel touch you and look at you the way Sam and Dean did. But you did it anyway. And you had no justification except that you knew – somehow, deep in your heart – you knew you loved him once. You knew he loved you. You knew, if he turned you back into an angel you would love him again and maybe … maybe that’s why you didn’t want him to turn you back. 

Because loving so many people would only destroy you. And you didn’t feel worthy of the love they would return. You were broken and flawed and no Miranda Kerr lookalike, and yet, somehow, you seemed to have the hearts of the bravest people you knew.

You couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop. When they would realise that you weren’t anything special – just the average human. 

“You can’t stop them, little one. Not because of who I am or who I’ve hurt. You could stop them if that was the case. My sin is much worse than that. Crowley saw, Y/N. In your head, he saw the way I looked at you. He saw that you recognised me. If he knows … it’s only a matter of time before the Winchester’s do. And when they find out … when they know that I am in love with you, that I am doing all of this for you … they will kill me just for that.”

You squeezed your eyes shut in denial and shook your head as a tear slid down your cheek. Because Sam and Dean didn’t know. Not yet. You’d kept it from them for so long, but Gadreel had just signed his own death warrant because the brothers could hear everything that he was saying.

Gadreel took your denial as something else. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“They don’t understand,” he said. “You don’t belong to anyone. You weren’t made for anyone. Lucifer didn’t, neither did Abaddon, and it destroyed them. Twisted them into monsters. It will do the same to Sam and Dean if they don’t accept that you’re not theirs.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said. You heard the click of the lighter, heard it hit the ground. As the heat rushed up, you pulled away from Gadreel and pushed him back so he wouldn’t get burned. Pain spread through your arm as the flames licked at the scars on your forearm. 

You let it fall to your side. You didn’t try to soothe the pain that radiated from the burn. You deserved it. 

Your eyes were clouded with tears as you looked at Gadreel. There was no betrayal in his face, only a sad acceptance. You wondered if he’d known it was a trap. If he’d walked into it just because you were the bait. 

****

Dean was angry … or hurt, or sad … or all three. You couldn’t tell. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed but his eyes were blank. Whatever he was feeling, he was trying to bury it. 

You were sitting on one of the library tables, the first aid kit sitting beside you. Dean was standing in front of you, so close that his hips were pressed against your knees as he dressed the wound on your forearm. 

You were watching his face, and you knew if he only looked up – stopped avoiding your eyes – he would see everything you were feeling. Because it was too much to contain. The shame and the guilt were the worst. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. It was quiet and your voice broke at the end. Your eyes welled up … or, they hadn’t really dried since seeing Gadreel in that alley.

“For what?” Dean said. His voice was gruff, gave nothing away, and it hurt you to see him hide from you. He never did that. You were the only person he trusted enough to be emotional with – to share how he really felt without fear of judgment. But you’d ruined that now, lost the privilege of seeing his vulnerability. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” you said. “Please … don’t act like this doesn’t bother you. Don’t shut me out.”

“You mean the way you shut me and Sam out?” He looked at you then, and your lips parted in shock at the sudden coldness in his eyes. “Because you thought we shouldn’t be together. More like, you didn’t want us to be together.”

“Dean …”

He dropped your arm back into your lap, having secured the bandage. He grabbed the first aid kit and began leaving the room. You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out … because what could you possibly say that would fix this? And why would you want to fix it? This was what you wanted, for them to leave you because you knew you could never leave them. 

But as you watched Dean’s retreating back, you were suddenly forgetting why you wanted them to leave. You were forgetting why you were bad for each other. 

He turned back suddenly, his face angry and determined as he marched back towards you.

“No, you know what?” You flinched as he threw the first aid kit back at the table and it crashed to the ground. “Is it for him? Are you trying to leave us for him? That whole spiel about how we shouldn’t be together. About how we – we were dangerous and selfish together. It was all a load of crap – just letting us down easy so you could run off with angel boy, who by the way, is working with Metatron and lied to us to possess you.”

His voice rose the more he spoke until he was yelling at you in a way he’d never yelled at you before. Your tears were falling now but that didn’t seem to deter him. Not like it would with Sam. For once, fighting was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“No,” you sniffled. “I would never do that to you. Gadreel had nothing to do with it.”

He shook his head and dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. He was clearly battling with himself. You didn’t think he really believed what he’d said, but he needed an explanation, and so far, you hadn’t given him one. You were wishing now that you’d told him about you and Gadreel the moment you weren’t possessed. But you’d been angry and confused … then you just became scared and cowardly. 

“Do you love him?” The question was as cold as his eyes and he didn’t look at you when he said it. You slid off the table and went to touch his arm. He pulled away. “Just answer the question, Y/N.”

You swallowed down your hurt and disappointment. “No.”

Dean scoffed. “Don’t lie.”

“I didn’t –”

“You did,” he snapped, finally looking at you. You jumped as his voice echoed through the room. “I saw you two in that alley, Y/N. Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe you don’t feel anything for that guy?”

“I don’t know what I feel,” you yelled back, though it was in desperation rather than anger. “I do know that it’s not love. Because I love you. And I love Sam. And whatever I feel for Gadreel, however much I care for him … it doesn’t come close to how I feel for you.”

Dean scoffed again. A humourless smile stretching his lips to a grimace. “Yeah. You seem to be loving a lot of people lately.”

You frowned in confusion. “I – I don’t understand. A lot of people …?”

“Cain! Another one of your supernatural flings.” When you continued to give him that dumbfounded look he rolled his eyes. “When I met Cain, he had a 200-year-old picture of you. Apparently, the two of you were chumming it up in the 1800’s. The whole reason Abaddon wants you is ‘cause she was jealous of him. Oh, and don’t even get me started on Lucifer.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as the words fell out of his mouth. “You know.”

“You’re damn right I know. So, what, now you’re trying to team up with Gadreel behind our backs so you can become … what? What the hell are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stop –”

“I’m not lying!” He fell silent. “I promise you, I’m not. I only know what Gadreel told me. I’m not … I’m not going behind your backs to be anything. I’m not lying to you. I just … I didn’t know how to tell you and Sam. I mean, what the hell was I meant to say? Some days I wake up and think that I don’t even believe it.”

Dean shifted on his feet. His eyes weren’t cold anymore, but his expression was still guarded. He was still hiding. “What did he tell you?”

You shrugged. “That I’m … an angel? Or, I was, anyway. Apparently, God had it in for me so he killed me and forced me to reincarnate as a human.”

Dean shook his head as the furrow in his brow deepened with confusion. “Wait … you were an angel? What was God’s deal?”

“I don’t know. But I think it has something to do with who made me.”

“Who made you?”

You nodded. “He’s not my … creator, Dean. Someone else made me. Before the archangels even existed. Before humans. I was the first thing ever created. Just … a wild card thrown into the mix. And – and God didn’t know what to do with me. I guess … he can’t kill me.”

Dean ran his hands through his hair and pressed his lips together as he looked anywhere but at you. 

“So … you’re not even human?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stop saying that!” His face wasn’t blank now. It was angry and frustrated and just so … lost. 

“But I don’t!” He turned away from you with a shake of his head. You moved towards him but stopped before you reached out. For the first time in a long time, you had no idea if Dean would welcome your touch. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this sooner. I’m sorry that I care about Gadreel, even after everything he’s done. But I’m scared too. I have no idea who I am. And now I’m hell-bent on protecting some angel that I barely even know. And I can’t understand why I feel that way. I didn’t want any of this.”

He turned back to you and it broke your heart to see tears staining his cheeks. “Then what do you want?”

“Dean –”

“Just say it,” he snapped as he closed the distance between you. “Just tell me what you want. Right here. Right now. What do you want!?” You jumped again as his voice bounced off the walls and hit you.

“You!” He fell silent. For a moment, your heavy breathing was the only sound to be heard. “I just want you and Sammy. I want us, Dean. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. But I need –”

“Screw what you need. ‘Cause I need you.”

His hands were at your waist then, his teeth banging against yours in his rush to force his tongue into your mouth. To possess you in the only way a human could.

You let him. 

You let him take control, you let him pull your clothes off enough to fit himself between your thighs. Much like last time, there was no foreplay … no sweet climb to a toe-curling climax. But this time it didn’t hurt. It didn’t make you feel sick. Because this time you weren’t punishing yourselves. Instead, you were forgetting about what was right, about doing what you were supposed to do.

This time, you both just took what you wanted in a hungry frenzy. 

Neither of you were in a good place. This didn’t mean you were suddenly going to go back to what you were. There was still so much shit to talk about. So much to work through. So much Sam still needed to know. 

No … this – this desperate tangling of limbs and yearning breaths and sweet nothings was just … wishful thinking. Just Dean’s way of saying ‘fuck you’ to everything and everyone who tried to keep you from him … and your way of guilt tripping yourself into staying when you knew you shouldn’t.

****

Sam was pissed. Not at you. Dean didn’t think Sam had ever actually been pissed at you for anything. You could get away with murder in front of him. 

No, Sam was pissed at the situation. He was pissed that the woman he loved was hurting. He was pissed that, yet again, his hunting life got in the way of his domestic one. 

He was pissed that the only person he could take his anger out on was an angel that was head-over-heels in love with you. An angel that you cared about. 

Dean couldn’t help but wonder how many more of those were waiting to come out of the woodworks. 

A grunt and meaty thud echoed through the warehouse once more. Dean dragged Sam away from Gadreel, who was chained up in a chair. 

Gadreel spat out a mouthful of blood and stared the brothers down with a hard look. For a moment, Dean could see it. Dean could see why Gadreel was one of the people who’d fallen in love with you over the years.

Cain had been right. You had a type. 

“Where is she?” Gadreel said.

“I told you,” Sam growled. “You don’t get to ask about her.”

He went to charge at Gadreel again but Dean pulled him back and managed to wrestle him far out of Gadreel’s earshot.

“He's not gonna crack that fast,” Dean said, trying his best to be the reasonable one as steam all but came out of Sam’s ears. 

“I know. Maybe you could hack him like … like we did to …”

Dean nodded in understanding. Sam still took what Crowley did to you pretty hard. “No, uh … Crowley's the only one who can do that. And I'm in no mood to call that dickbag. Besides, Y/N’s the only one who can handle him, and she … she didn’t want to be here for this. She feels like she betrayed Gadreel. We need Cas.”

Sam scoffed. That was another thing he was pissed about. How guilty you felt about Gadreel. “Any word from him?”

“No,” Dean said as he pulled his mobile from his pocket. “I tried him again. He hasn't called, he hasn't texted. I turned on the GPS on his phone. He's still in the same town where we talked to him last.” He held the phone up to show Sam the map and the pin that showed where Cas was. 

“What the hell?”

“I don't know. You got to go find him.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Wait, what?”

Dean shook his head as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. “You're too close to this, man.”

“And, what, you're not?”

Dean sighed and glanced over his shoulder at Gadreel. “We're not at this five minutes, you're already going Liam Neeson on his ass. I blew off my steam man. I got this. Take Y/N with you. Cas has a way of making her feel better. He’ll know what to say.”

After another hard look in Gadreel’s direction, Sam sighed and let his shoulders sag as he nodded. Dean didn’t go back to Gadreel until he heard his Impala rumble to life and drive off.

“So, he acts tough, and you show kindness. Is that how this works?” Gadreel said with a sneer as Dean came to stand in front of him again.

Dean’s jaw ticked and he felt an eerie calmness settle over him, as though the Mark somehow knew what was about to happen and was lying in wait until the blood began to flow.

“No,” Dean said. “See, I don't care whether you talk. You're gonna pay for what you did to my wife ... and Kevin.”

It was a good hour before Dean let up on him and started asking the questions he was meant to be getting answers to. 

“Word around the campfire is, you let the snake into the garden, ruined it for all humanity,” Dean said as he stepped back and wiped the blood from his angel blade. 

Gadreel managed a chuckle through his pained gasps. “No. I just took the blame.”

“Is that right?”

“Who do you think really did it?” Dean’s jaw ticked and Gadreel smiled. “She always did fall for the broken ones. Lucifer is as broken as they come.”

“Sam’s right. You don’t get to talk about her,” Dean growled. “You tell me about this ‘getting back into heaven’ crap and I'll end this quick. Otherwise, you can sit here and rot in those chains forever. Up to you.”

“All your talk, all your bluster ... you think you are invincible. The three of you against the world, right?”

“Damn straight,” Dean said as he turned his back on Gadreel.

“You really think Y/N would do anything for you?”

Dean felt his mask fall for a moment as he remembered what you’d told him in the bunker kitchen so many months ago: “I’m done … I’m done hurting people because I’m too scared to lose you and Sam. I’m done making our happiness the priority. It’s not worth more than anyone else’s. It certainly wasn’t worth more than Kevin’s life.”

He steeled his face, buried his pain and turned back to Gadreel to tell the biggest lie he’d ever told. “Oh, I know she would.”

Gadreel smiled that infuriating smile. “I have been in my mate’s body, Dean.” Dean’s jaw ticked and his hand clenched around the angel blade. “She would not trade her life for yours.”

“Well, thanks for the rerun, pal. Y/N's already told me all that crap. Hell, she's told me worse.”

Gadreel’s brows raised in mock surprise. “Did she tell you about the pier?” Dean’s face faltered and Gadreel latched onto that. “The place that I used to take her when I was inside her body. The place where she spilled her heart and soul to me.” 

His head snapped to the side as Dean’s fist landed on his jaw. “Keep it up!”

“Where she confessed her feelings for me. Where she asked me to restore her to her rightful place. Where I made love to her.”

Dean snapped. His knuckles hurt from how hard he was gripping the angel blade. The skin of his hand white with the pressure. 

He charged forward and drove the knife towards Gadreel’s heart. The angel didn’t flinch, the smirk was still on his face, as though he knew what was about to happen. As if he knew Dean would stop before he killed him.

Because that’s exactly what happened. The tip of the angel blade scraped against the fabric of Gadreel’s shirt. Dean’s teeth were clenched together as he remembered what you made him promise before he left the bunker that day. 

Gadreel’s smile widened. “See. You cannot kill me. She will not allow it.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “So that’s what that whole speech was about? You were tryin’ to prove a point?”

He had to admit, Dean felt ashamed that he’d let Gadreel get into his head like that. He should have known the moment he said he slept with you that it was a bunch of bull. You’d done a lot of questionable things, but Dean knew – even when he got jealous over you flirting with women – you would never cheat on him. And you definitely wouldn’t do something like that to Sammy. 

“She made you promise, did she not?” Gadreel said instead of answering the question. “Before you came here, she made you promise not to kill me.” Dean said nothing and a humourless chuckle slipped through Gadreel’s lips. “You don’t break the promises you make to a woman like that. Lucifer did. And look where he is now.”

Dean pointed the blade in Gadreel’s direction. “You tellin’ me that my baby put Lucifer in his cage?”

“No. Love put him there, Dean. A jealous, possessive love. Not unlike the love you feel for my mate.”

****

“You’re taking this a lot better than Dean did,” you said as Sam pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the motel Cas was meant to be staying in. 

“Well … I’m not Dean,” he said.

You nodded and looked down at where your hands sat in your lap. “I know. I just …”

The Impala rolled to a stop and Sam switched the engine off. “Look,” he said as he stared out the windshield, “I … whatever Dean’s problem is – that’s his issue to deal with, okay? Not yours. But I … I love you, Y/N. And – And that’s not gonna change no matter who – or what – you are. I mean, do I wanna know … more? Where you came from? Why you – you … reincarnate? Yeah, I wanna figure that stuff out. But whatever we find at the end of that road. However many skeletons we dig up – I’m always going to love you.” 

You felt him look at you then, but you couldn’t bring yourself to return his stare. “I just … I hoped it would be easier than this. That I would be …”

“Hey.” Sam reached over and cupped your chin in his hand, gently coaxing you to look up at him. “I don’t.” He rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip. “You are exactly what I want – what I need. I knew right from the beginning that this wasn’t going to be easy.” He gave you a small smile. “From that first day, when you gave me that chicken and caesar salad wrap, and straight up asked me what was wrong with me, I knew. But I opened up to you anyway … because I thought that maybe you were worth it. And I know that you don’t think you are … but after all the crap we’ve been through together, after everything I’ve done to keep you in my life … I can honestly say that you’re worth every second of it.”

You watched him for what seemed like forever, in complete awe of this incredible man who somehow saw something in you worth loving. 

His brow furrowed as he slid his hand up to brush the back of his knuckles against your cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said.

You cleared your throat and pulled away from his hand with a nervous chuckle. He’d caught you off guard, and after everything that had been happening between the three of you, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to respond. 

“It’s fine. I guess I’ve just been really emotional lately,” you said with another chuckle. You climbed out of the car without looking at him. When you rounded the hood and heard his door slam, you still didn’t look. 

Maybe if you had, you would have seen it coming. But you didn’t. And even if you did, you weren’t sure what you would have done. 

Sam’s hand engulfed your wrist as he caught up with you. You looked up, expecting him to say one last thing. Instead, he brought his other hand up to rest on the side of your neck and spun the two of you around until he was pressing you against the hood of the Impala. 

His teeth didn’t bang against yours the way Dean’s did. He was much more sure of his actions – desperate yes, but he didn’t think you’d push him away. 

He brought his other hand up so he was holding your face in his hands. You whimpered as his tongue slid into your mouth and took control. 

He groaned and then his hands were on the backs of your thighs and he was hoisting you up onto the hood. 

You took that moment to pull back slightly and say, “Cassie.”

Sam made a sound of frustration and pressed one last, searing kiss to your lips. “The moment we see he’s okay, we’re getting a room.”

Sam didn’t end up getting what he hoped for because Cas was most certainly not okay. 

****

You weren’t sure what to expect when you got to the warehouse to tell Dean about Metatron and his trade deal. You had expected that he would keep his promise but that would mean Gadreel would be beaten beyond all recognition – because you knew he wouldn’t talk. Not while he thought Metatron could help him. 

So you were shocked to walk in and find Dean unconscious against the back wall. The chair that Gadreel had been in was turned over and he was nowhere to be found – so your first thought was that Gadreel killed Dean and escaped. 

When that thought entered your mind, you ran to Dean and fell to your knees beside him. You shook him and called his name until he opened his eyes and gave you a drowsy look. 

You sagged in relief and let your head fall against his shoulder. His hand came up to rest on the back of your head. 

“M’okay,” he mumbled. 

Sam crouched down and patted him on his other shoulder. “Hey. I've been calling you. I mean, w-why didn't you, uh ...” 

You lifted your head when he trailed off and caught sight of the same thing he did. Gadreel hadn’t escaped. He was lying bloodied and unconscious a few feet away. You would have thought he was dead too, but thankfully there wasn’t a shadow of his wings stained to the ground. 

Your first instinct was to go to him, much like you’d gone to Dean. You stopped yourself. Before, you hadn’t questioned your feelings, you’d simply accepted them and followed them instinctually, but after being yelled at by Dean … after seeing how worried and upset he was about it, you thought maybe your judgment was skewed. 

Maybe you should stop blindly trusting your feelings for Gadreel, and start questioning them. 

So, despite the itch in your palm and the yearning in your stomach, you didn’t go to Gadreel. All you could do was stare and wonder how you thought you could protect someone the brothers wanted dead.

“He won't talk,” Dean said, his head rolling to the side to glance at the angel. 

“I figured,” Sam said. 

Dean looked back at you. “I was gonna kill him,” he said. “I was. But then I stopped 'cause … ‘cause I promised you I wouldn’t.” 

At some point, those words might have offered you a small comfort, but after Metatron showed up in Cas’s motel room demanding Gadreel’s return … you didn’t think Dean would be so kind to the angel in the future. Not if he continued down the path he was going. 

You and Dean stared at one another and there was a weight in his eyes, growing heavier with all the words he wasn’t going to say. All the words you wished he would say.

“Dean, listen,” Sam said. “Metatron has Cas. He's offering up a trade.”

Dean frowned as his eyes flicked to Sam. “We can't trust Metatron.”

“I-I know that. Obviously. But look, this is the first time we're gonna know for sure where Metatron is. Let's take Gadreel to the meet-up, make the exchange, and then trap Metatron.”

****

So that’s what you did, and, like all fool-proof plans, this one failed. The ring of holy fire couldn’t keep Metatron locked in – he quite literally blew it out. 

Nor was it any easier to keep from staring after Gadreel like a beaten puppy. If anything you’d heard was true, Metatron was observant. He’d sniff out any signs adoration immediately and use it against Gadreel if he showed any hint of disloyalty. 

You’d already done so much to hurt Gadreel, the least you could do was pretend you were indifferent towards him while his boss gave his speech. 

Of course, Gadreel took no such precautions. He was standing behind Metatron, hidden from the new God’s watchful eyes. And so, he used that opportunity to stare at you. And the more he stared with his bloodied face and downtrodden eyes … the guiltier you felt. 

The only comfort you felt that day was having Cas back by your side.

“Why are you doing this?” Dean growled.

Metatron sneered as he moved closer, disdain blanketed his face. “Because I can. Because you three and your fine, feathered friend and all those secrets you've got locked away in your bunker can't stop me. But I am gonna enjoy watching you try. It's gonna be a hell of a show. I'll see you around, Castiel. Never forget I gave you a chance.”

Whatever chance Metatron gave Cas, it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. In fact, he avoided all conversation until he was back at his motel, standing in the parking lot with the three of you.

“Somebody want to tell me what the hell's going on here?” Dean said.

“Metatron is trying to play God,” Cas said.

“Play God?” Sam said. “Cas, he erased angel warding. He friggin' blew out Holy Fire. He is God.” He looked at Dean. “He's powering up with the angel tablet. How the hell are we supposed to stop this guy?”

“Alright,” Dean said, “so what if there is a stairway to heaven? We find it and get a drop on the guy.”

You snorted. “You want to sneak onto the Death Star, take out the emperor?”

Cas frowned at you. “Okay, I ... I'm not sure what a fictional battle station in space has to do with this, but if taking out the emperor means taking out Metatron, I'm on board.”

You, Sam and Dean all exchanged a confused look. 

“Wait,” Dean said, “did you ... did you just understand a Death Star reference?”

Cas gave him a slow nod. “Yeah, I think so. But I don't understand what that has to do with heaven.”

“It's halfway, I guess,” Sam said with a shrug. 

Dean nodded and tucked his hands into his pockets. “You sure you're alright?” he asked Cas.

“Yes. Are you?” Cas said. “There's something different about you.”

You gave Dean a look. He pressed his lips together and reached forward to pat Cas on the shoulder. “I'm fine.”

Cas grabbed his arm before he could pull back. Dean swallowed and Cas yanked up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal the Mark. He gave Dean a hard look.

“What have you done?” he said. 

Dean yanked his arm back and rolled his sleeve down. “It's a means to an end.”

“Damn it, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes and rounded the Impala to get to the driver’s side. “Look, you find heaven, you drop a dime. Meantime, I got a knight to kill.”

Sam sighed and looked at Cas when Dean slid into the car with a scowl. “Be safe out there.”

“You, too,” Cas said. “Hey, Sam. You keep an eye on him.”

Sam nodded and gave him a sad smile before climbing into the passenger seat. When Cas turned to you next, you slid your arms around him and squeezed him tight.

“I’m glad you’re back, Cassie.”

He wrapped his arms around you. “Me too. Listen …” You drew back and looked up at him. “Gabriel told me something.”

You frowned. “Gabriel? That, uh, that angel that Lucifer killed?”

“Yes. Though … I’m not so sure he is dead.”

You shook your head. “What do you mean?”

“Metatron used an illusion of Gabriel to capture me … except, I don’t think he was an illusion. He knew things about you. Things that Metatron didn’t know. He said the two of you were close friends a … a long time ago.” He looked at you and struggled with his own thoughts for a moment. Finally, he shook his head and looked away. “No. He had to have been lying. It was just a trick. I’m sorry –”

“He wasn’t lying,” you said.

Cas shifted on his feet. “What?”

“He told you that I used to be an angel, right? That I always come back? I never die … not really.” Cas nodded. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure I believed it either. But enough people are coming out of the woodworks … they can’t all be making it up, right?”

****

Gadreel stood in front of Metatron’s desk, trying his best to keep on the face of a loyal soldier though he knew better now. 

Being captured by the Winchesters and seeing you act as the rope in the tug-of-war … it reminded him that he wasn’t loyal to Metatron. He was loyal to you. 

And even if he was with Metatron to get you back, he had to wonder whether or not his actions were just pushing you away. Whether you would even want him back if he restored you like this. 

You had never been the kind of woman that wanted people to make decisions for you. Control was important to you. Not over other people, just over yourself. 

In his blind chase for what he once had with you, he forgot to think about what you wanted. He’d assumed you would come around once you had your memories back and were an angel again … but what if he was wrong? 

“Is the door secure?” Metatron said. 

Gadreel nodded once. “Yes. The way home is safe.”

“Thank you, Gadreel.”

Gadreel took a few steps forward and looked at the typewriter that sat before Metatron. “How did your play turn out?”

Metatron’s face twisted a little. “Didn't quite turn out as I'd planned, but that is why we rewrite. That was God's problem, you know... he published the first draft. You got to keep at it till you get all your ducks in a row.”

Gadreel nodded once again and turned to leave. He stopped before he reached the door and looked back at Metatron. “Was the Winchesters grabbing me part of your plan?”

Metatron smiled. “That was a surprise. But, hey, what writer doesn't love a good twist? My job is to set up interesting characters and see where they lead me. The by-product of having well-drawn characters is...They may surprise you. But I know something they don't know ... the ending. How I get there doesn't matter as long as everybody plays their part.”

Gadreel didn’t nod this time, he simply left, because for once he had a seed of doubt in his mind. Not just about you … but about Metatron too. If he already had his ending planned … how was Gadreel meant to convince him to make you a part of it?

You were a Winchester. 

And Winchesters were the bad guys.


	47. King Of The Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have moments of clarity about the hold you have over them. Castiel has an army of angels and a reluctance to interrogate his enemies. And Crowley has decided to double cross Abaddon. What could go wrong?

Sam sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, his left knee up on the seat so he could sit sideways and lean his head back against his window. 

Like a teenage boy, he’d done it so he could pretend to nap while he secretly stole glances at you. His favourite was always when he caught you looking at him.

He should have grown out of those games, but you made him feel like the young, naive kid he used to be. He wondered what things would have been like if he’d met you when Dean had asked him to help find John all those years ago. When he was barely in his twenties and bright-eyed with an easy smile. 

He would have fallen in love with you so quick. Instantly, even. He could see it now. You’d be in a bar; he’d catch a glimpse of you from behind and you’d look over your shoulder at him with those mischievous eyes of yours. He would have been hooked instantly.

And you would have eaten him alive.

He looked to the back seat, ready to play his 16-year-old game of peek-a-boo, only to find you flat on your back. Your ass was pressed against the door right behind Dean and you had your legs out the window, waving them gently in the wind as Dean sped down the road. 

Your arms lay against the leather above your head and your eyes were closed. As he watched, he found something beautifully whimsical about you. Mystifying, almost. Like you weren’t real, just a figment of his imagination, lying in the back seat with your legs out the window doing strange things to his heart.

You must have felt eyes on you because yours opened suddenly and you tilted your head back to look at him. He got caught in your gaze. 

This was the look over the shoulder. The one that was meant to have captivated him when he was just a kid. 

He realised then that he was an idiot to think it couldn’t still do that. 

He was an idiot to think you couldn’t still eat him alive.

Your lips curled up in that secret smile of yours and Sam was left dumbfounded and enlightened all at the same time as you tilted your head back down to look at your feet. 

You wiggled your toes. Dean slowed the car to a stop and Sam jolted when he got a slap on the chest.

“Earth to Sam,” Dean growled as he pulled the keys out of the ignition and climbed out of the car. 

Sam watched as you pulled your feet back in and rolled to a seating position when Dean opened your door. You rested your bare feet on the frame of the car next to the seat, facing him. 

Dean crouched in front of you and grabbed your socks from the floor. “Put these on,” he said, a gentle tone to his gruff voice.

As you pulled on your socks, Dean grabbed your boots and loosened the laces. 

“I can put them on myself, Dean,” you said as he held one open for you to slide your foot in.

“I know,” he growled. 

You didn’t argue, just slid your foot into one boot, then the next, and sat patiently as Dean did up your laces. 

Sam wondered just what kind of power you had over him and his brother. His earlier entrancement was one thing, but he’d never seen Dean tie up anyone’s laces – let alone put their boots on for them – until he met you. 

“Too tight?” Dean asked when he was done. You shook your head and Dean straightened. He ducked his head down to look through the driver’s window at Sam. “You getting out or what?” he growled, a sharp contrast to the gentle coddling he’d just given you.

Sam pulled himself together and slid out of the car. He rounded the hood and stopped near his brother. You brushed in behind Dean to stand in the middle, and, out of pure instinct, Sam’s hand struck out and wrapped around your shoulder. You grunted as he roughly pulled you in against him. 

Sam ignored the stare he got from Dean and said, “This is the address?” as he stared up at the building in front of him – Central Municipal Power Corp.

“Yeah,” Dean grunted after glancing at you. 

A man named Benjamin opened the door before any of you could knock. “If you’ll follow me, the Commander will see you now,” he said. 

“The Commander?” you said to the brothers once Benjamin turned his back and started down the hall.

Sam kept a tight hold on you as the three of you walked through the compound – the very compound Cas had told you to go to. You entered a main room that looked like something out of an FBI TV show. Bustling people and digital maps up all over the place with Metatron’s face on them. 

At the back of the room was a raised platform with an office on top. That’s where Benjamin lead you. 

You grinned as you walked in and saw Cas standing there with a smile of his own. Sam finally let you go and you rushed forward to hug the angel. He squeezed you back, just as tight, before turning to the brothers and giving them the same treatment. 

Benjamin still stood by the door, as stoic as ever. 

“Um ... dismissed,” Cas said to him. He gave the three of you an apologetic look when the other angel left. “He can be a little stuffy.” 

“So ... Commander?” Dean said as he collapsed down into one of the armchairs in front of the desk. Sam took the other one and you perched on the arm of Dean’s. 

His hand automatically fell to your hip but he hesitated a moment, unsure if it was wanted. If that familiarity was still there. 

You didn’t give him an answer. Truth be told, you didn’t know what answer to give him. You were all walking on eggshells around each other. Some days it felt normal, other days you weren’t sure if you should even be in the same room with them.

It was a hard thing – learning how to love each other again.

Dean left his hand on your hip, even managed to circle his thumb over the strip of bare skin above your shorts. 

“Yeah, not my idea,” Cas said as he leant back against his desk. “They had no leader, and they insisted on following me.” 

“Yeah. No, we get it. You’re a rock star,” Dean said with a nod. He patted your hip for emphasis. 

“Bartholomew is dead,” Cas defended. “Malachi was murdered by Gadreel, and with Metatron as powerful as he is now, I needed to do something.”

“So this war between angels is really gonna happen, huh?” you said. Your voice quiet.

Cas pressed his lips together in regret. “Not if I can find a diplomatic option for getting rid of Metatron.”

“Good luck with that,” Dean said.

Cas gave him an impatient look. “Dean, this angel-on-angel violence -- it has to end. Someone has to say, ‘enough’.”

“And that someone is you?” Sam said.

Cas sighed. “That brings me to why you're here. We have a prisoner. It's an angel from Metatron's inner circle. I need to know what they're planning, but so far, he's revealed nothing.”

Dean nodded. “So, you're done with the rough stuff, and you want us to be your goons?”

“Well, you've had success at these situations before. If you don't want to do it, I understand.”

“Who says I don't want to do it?”

You and Sam shared a look.

****

Crowley had his hands pressed against the mahogany table that he now leant over, staring down at his advisors. He had to admit, it felt good to see demons squirming in fear before him once again. As far as he was concerned, anyone who didn’t fear him was too stupid to be kept alive. 

Except you, of course. You were always different. Had been for thousands of years apparently. 

Despite all the goose chases, he still couldn’t figure out exactly what you are. He was beginning to think only the archangels truly knew. 

If that was the case, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to find out himself. The last thing he wanted was to go down to Lucifer’s cage and mention your name. There was already one crazy red-head levelling the country for you, he didn’t care to find out what Lucifer would do. 

So, for now, he let the matter be and focused on taking back control of Hell.

“So, here's the thing, boys and girls,” he said to his advisors, “we have a crisis. Admittedly, a crisis of my own making. In my extended absence, where I handled sensitive matters of state, Abaddon made inroads into my following, creating chaos. So, I look to you, my trusted advisors, to restore confidence, to soothe those jangled nerves. Spread the word -- the king is back, and the kingdom is once again on sound footing. So, all those with me, say ‘yo’.”

Silence. Crowley had never been left in so much disbelief, to the point that anger didn’t even occur to him. Did they dare defy him? Didn’t they understand what he would do to them? 

For the love of all that was evil, did he mumble? 

“Yo.”

Chills ran up Crowley’s spine when Abaddon’s voice echoed through the room. He looked over his shoulder to see her leaning against the door-frame, martini in hand. 

“I mean, I'm literally with you, not with you with you,” she said.

Crowley turned back to his advisors, his face twisted in fury, and hissed, “You betrayed me? No one in the history of torture's been tortured with torture like the torture you'll be tortured with.”

“Relax, everyone,” Abaddon said as she walked into the room as though she owned it. 

It reminded Crowley of you, and he wondered for a moment how you would have turned out had Abaddon managed to corrupt you when she had the chance. He wondered if it was even possible. You had turned Cain to the dark side after all, and by his admission, Abaddon had been on the fence until jealousy tipped her back onto the murderous psycho side of the court. 

“You did the new queen a solid. You are sitting at the popular kids' table.” Abaddon sank down on one of the plush armchairs in the seating area. “Now, Crowley, let's talk turkey. I know you helped the Winchesters get their hands on the First Blade, yes?” Crowley slid his hands into his coat pockets and slipped on a calm façade as he approached her. “And I'm hearing that one of them also has the mark of Cain -- all bad news since the Blade is the one thing that can bring about my –”

“Utter destruction.” Crowley took a moment to delight in her tight smile.

“To be indelicate,” she forced out. “But here's the thing, pet -- same goes for you. And once I'm gone, who do you think's next on those cute boys' list?” 

Crowley glanced at the floor. This whole time he’d been banking on the boys staying away from him for the sake of you. And he’d been right in doing so. But ever since Dean got the Blade and the Mark, he wasn’t sure just how far Dean’s loyalty to you stretched anymore. The more he killed, the further away he drifted. 

“That's right,” Abaddon continued. “So let's get real. Join me in taking out the Winchesters and that ridiculous Blade, and then we'll deal with each other.”

Crowley drew in a deep breath and took a few more steps forward. How stupid did she think he was? But then, you always did go for the cocky, pigheaded ones. He really ought to have a talk to you about your sex life. 

“To be clear,” Crowley said, “I'll not be joining you ever. Except at your death scene, where I shall burst into song. Goodbye. You have no hold over me.”

Crowley went to turn away but Abaddon stopped him with two simple words and a snap of her fingers. Crowley turned back to see a dead boy stumble into the room.

A dead boy he hadn’t seen in hundreds of years.

Abaddon smiled. “Gavin, honey, say hello to daddy.”

“How did you –”

“I know a spell or two, Crowley.”

Crowley scoffed as he watched his only son stare around the room in awe. “Are you mad? This is your big card? The boy and I loathe each other. I made it clear in the past -- I don't care what happens to the little bugger.”

Abaddon furrowed her brows in faux thought. “No. But that was before ... wasn't it? See, I know all about your little problem -- bingeing on blood, going right to the edge of being human -- all of those human feelings.”

Crowley shook his head. “I'm clean.”

Abaddon chuckled. “And I'm willing to bet that there's a smidgen of humanity in there somewhere.”

“Not a chance.”

Abaddon smiled and held her hand up in a clawed gesture. Gavin’s eyes began bleeding and he grunted in pain as he lifted his hands to them. 

“I'm blind,” he screamed. 

Crowley watched. He forced himself to watch if only to convince himself he could.

“Help! I beg you!”

A niggling feeling started in Crowley’s stomach. It rose to his chest, and he didn’t want to admit it but it felt a lot like guilt. He didn’t care for Gavin, no. You were his only real child as far as he was concerned. He did feel responsible, however. It wasn’t a feeling he liked. 

“You know these ghoulish party tricks don't impress,” Crowley said. “Seen worse, done worse.”

Abaddon smiled as Gavin’s screams became worse. The boy slipped in his own blood and fell to his knees.

“Please!” Gavin begged.

“You're playing a weak hand, Red!” Crowley yelled over the screaming. 

Abaddon twisted her hand in the air and Gavin’s pain became worse. 

“I beg you!”

The guilt grew denser. It almost choked Crowley and he couldn’t help but think what you would do in this situation. What you would think of him if he let his own son die right there. 

“You've made your point,” he said. “Now stop.”

Abaddon dropped her hand back to the arm of her chair. “Sure.”

It was twenty minutes before Gavin was finally cleaned up and had calmed down enough for a civilised conversation to begin. Of course, it mostly consisted of trying to explain to Gavin that he was indeed in the 21st century and no, Crowley and Abaddon were most certainly not angels. 

Gavin was out on the balcony looking out at the buildings with bright eyes when a thought occurred to Crowley. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Abaddon.

“I have to ask,” he said as he shifted in his chair. “Why Gavin? Why not go after, Y/N. It’s no secret I’ve got a soft spot for the little hellcat.”

Abaddon cocked a brow and twisted her fingers together. The movement was subtle but Crowley didn’t miss it.

“She’s being guarded by the Winchester’s and every Tom, Dick and Harry that means something in this town. If I could snatch her, I wouldn’t need your help to kill those greasy monkey’s.”

“Huh.” Crowley smirked. “True. Or … could it be that you have a soft spot for her, too.” Abaddon’s jaw ticked. “Oh, don’t be embarrassed, love. You said it yourself. Anybody who’s somebody is invested in that woman. She’s got thousands of years’ worth of broken hearts under her arm. What? You didn’t think I would find out about your love triangle with her and Cain? Word is, she jumped ship ‘cause you wouldn’t play nice.”

“I did,” Abaddon snapped. “I did everything for her. And she just …” She drew in a deep breath. “It’s of little consequence now. She’ll learn her lesson soon enough. She didn’t want me as a monster, we’ll see how she likes being one herself.”

Crowley pressed his tongue against his inner cheek. For once, he had a new perspective on Abaddon – and a new perspective on you. “You’re not the first to spend their long life chasing after YN. You won’t even be the last. Take my advice, love. You’re chasing a ghost. She doesn’t know you. She doesn’t even like you. What’s the point in torturing someone who doesn’t even remember their crime?”

“I remember,” Abaddon said, her voice cold with old rage. “That’s enough.”

Crowley shook his head. “You’ll never get your hands on her. There’s too many people that won’t allow it.”

Abaddon smiled. “That’s why I’ve got you, pet. Don’t act like you don’t want her black-eyed as much as I do.”

A few years ago, and Crowley might have jumped on that bandwagon. Thing was, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to change a thing about you anymore – not even the side you were on.

You just wouldn’t be the daughter he wanted if you weren’t a self-righteous, pain in his ass, Winchester.

****

You hadn’t met a pig that could squeal as easily as Ezra did, and none of you had to lay a hand on him. He just gave it all up to look cool – ground forces, an elite secret squad, and a portal to heaven that jumped around. 

You almost felt bad for the guy. So, yeah, when he turned up dead in the interrogation room not long after the three of you were done with him, you felt a little guilty. 

“It's unbelievable. I mean, he was fine when we left him,” Sam said, the three of you back with Cas in his office.

“I barely touched the guy,” Dean said.

“Still shackled, no weapon. It wasn't suicide.”

“No,” Cas said with a shake of his head. “This was an angel kill.”

Dean shrugged. “Okay. Well, I'm gonna say it. Maybe your operation's been hacked. You know, Metatron's got somebody on the inside.”

Cas sighed, the disappointment and betrayal in his face had your palm itching to reach out to him. “I was sure everyone here was loyal. Finally united by a common cause.”

“Well, that's the problem. See, you don't think anybody's lying. I think everybody's lying. It's a gift.” Dean looked at the two of you. “Let's do some nosin' around.”

Sam and Dean stood from the chairs and turned to leave. You went to go with them but Cas called you back. The brother’s stopped by the door and waited, both of them looking at Cas. The message was clear, ‘anything you have to say to her, you can say to us’. 

You thought that maybe because you were trying to salvage what was left of your relationship, they would be extra possessive and jealous. But Dean … Dean had always seemed to have a problem with you and Cas being alone together. The tension hadn’t always been there, but it was there now. He never said anything outright … but you could feel it – the way he looked at Cas when you were in the room; the way he grabbed you when you weren’t on rocky terms. 

Sam was never so obvious about it, but he was easily influenced by Dean if he felt unsure about the stability of his relationship with you.

You gave them a tight smile. “I’m fine. Just need a moment with Cassie.”

Their jaws ticked and they gave Cas one last look before exiting into the main room.

“Sorry,” you said when you turned back to Cas. “I don’t know what their deal is.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but he caught himself at the last moment and gave you a curt nod.

“So, what’s up?”

“Uh, I wanted to ask you about Gadreel,” Cas said, “the time he possessed you.” 

You nodded. “He didn't possess me completely -- more like we, uh ... shared housing. I was still me.”

“I … I know he was able to converse with you, but in the moments when you weren’t aware of him … did you ever sense a presence?”

You shook your head as you thought. “I don't really know what I felt. I mean, maybe that I wasn't completely alone.”

“Did you ever feel threatened?”

You smiled. “No. Definitely not. It was more that he … wasn’t at rest. Like he was looking for something. It always felt like there was something missing. I’d thought it was just me but … I don’t feel it now.”

Cas nodded. “But not -- not hostile.”

“No. He’s on the wrong side, Cassie. I know. But … I don’t know.” You sighed in frustration and rubbed a hand against your forehead. “I’m starting to think that everything he told me about him – about me and him … it’s screwing with my head. I don’t know what to think anymore.” You chuckled. “I’ve been compromised.”

Cas gave you a soft smile. “No. I think, of all of us, you have the clearest head in this matter.”

****

Cas stood in the wooded area where he’d asked Gadreel to meet. This was a risky move, he knew that, but he also trusted you. Perhaps even more than he trusted Sam and Dean. 

Most of all, he trusted your judgement, no matter how much you doubted it. 

He watched as one of his subjects led Gadreel to him. 

“Thank you for coming,” Cas said when the angel stopped before him. “And thank you for coming alone.”

“I've seen you through Y/N’s eyes, and she trusts you. For what it’s worth, she does love you. Though, not in the way you may want.” 

Cas shifted on his feet and tried his best not to look away from Gadreel. “Is it that obvious to everyone?” he said. 

“Not to her.” Gadreel watched him a moment before he changed back to the topic at hand. “I’m here because you have a reputation for honour, Castiel.”

Cas nodded. “In some circles. As for reputations, yours precedes you.”

Gadreel’s jaw ticked. “What happened in the Garden was not my doing.”

“I know you feel misunderstood. And you're eager to redeem yourself and … more.”

Gadreel narrowed his eyes. “You refer to my support of Metatron's campaign to rebuild heaven?”

“Your support? You've recruited for him, you've killed for him. And I know you truly believe it's for the greater good, but you've placed your faith in the wrong master.” 

Gadreel opened his mouth to argue but stopped at the last minute and looked away in frustration. How could he argue when he knew Cas was right? 

“You know it as well as I do, Gadreel,” Cas said. “I made the same mistake, and it led to the fall.”

“Which led to my second chance.”

“This is about more than just you. This about more than Y/N. I know how you feel, I truly do, but the last thing she wants is to be made a priority over everyone else.”

Gadreel scowled at him. He didn’t understand. Cas may love you, but he didn’t understand what it felt like to love you the way Gadreel did. 

Gadreel spent thousands of years in prison for you. He ruined his own reputation for you. Now he was killing angels for you. 

Cas didn’t understand that kind of love.

“Castiel, are you suggesting I change loyalties?”

“I'm suggesting you reclaim your original loyalty -- to the heaven and mission we were made to serve.”

“My loyalties changed a long time ago,” Gadreel snapped.

Cas’s shoulders sagged. He felt sympathy for Gadreel. Pity, almost.

“Do you honestly think she’ll want anything to do with you if you see Metatron’s plan through to the end? And even if she did … Metatron will not let her live. Not for you. Not for anyone. The moment he finds out about her, he’ll kill her and have every single one of her reincarnations hunted down and slaughtered like dogs. He won’t change her back into what she was. As bad as you've had it, all those centuries locked away, it will be much worse under Metatron. She will never forgive you.”

Gadreel looked defeated, he opened his mouth, and Cas thought that he might have done it, that he’d brought Gadreel back to the right side of the fight. 

But then he was almost killed.

****

Dean’s hands were trembling on top of the table he sat at in the command centre. His body felt hot and cold all at the same time. The Mark burned in his arm but the skin was like ice to the touch. Magnus’s voice kept ringing through his head. The visual of his neck being sliced open with the Blade. 

The first time Dean’s fingers wrapped around the hilt. How alive he felt. How powerful.

Cool fingers slid onto the back of his neck and his heart calmed instantly. Suddenly, the thought of holding the Blade didn’t fill him with excitement. Instead, he dreaded it. It made him sick to the stomach.

He wanted to scratch the Mark off his arm, all because you touched him. 

There was a connection there. He knew there had to be. Why else would your touch inhibit the Mark’s effect? It wasn’t coincidence. And Dean wasn’t enough of a romantic to believe it was love, though that would be much simpler. 

No … you had to be connected to the Mark somehow. You were like an antidote. 

It was no wonder Cain had wanted to be with you. With just your fingers on his neck, you brought Dean a sense of peace he hadn’t felt since before the Mark. 

He always felt jittery. Wound too tight. But you calmed him down somehow. 

He looked up at you.

“You okay?” you said.

He hummed an affirmative and let his head fall back and his eyes close as you ran your fingers through his hair and scraped your nails against his scalp.

He was okay now. 

Then your phone rang, your touch was gone, and his body was tensing up all over again.

“It's about time,” you said as you put the phone on speaker and set it on the table. 

“I told you I'd be in touch when I'd found Abaddon. Well ... I'm in touch,” Crowley said. Dean’s hands curled into fists just at the sound of his voice. 

“Where are you?” 

“First things first, kitten. I'll give you the location of the First Blade. You three fetch it, I'll keep her in my sights, then we'll remove her from the payroll for good.” 

****

A damn corpse. The Blade was hidden in a bloated, rotting corpse. It stank to high heavens and was infested with bugs and maggots. 

You thanked your lucky stars that you weren’t the one who had to bury your arm in it to grab the Blade. Sam got that honour. 

True to his word, Crowley gave you Abaddon’s location when Dean called him, but when Dean hung up the phone and gave you a nervous glance in the rear-view mirror, you knew something was up. 

Something he wasn’t telling you.

The three of you pulled up outside a hotel in Ohio. Sam still had his tight hold on the wrapped-up Blade as he got out of the car. 

“Alright. Let's do this.” 

“Wait. Hold on a sec,” Dean said. “We should give this place a once-over before we go up there. Crowley said he thought he saw some demons headed down to the basement. He'd have checked it out himself, but if word got back to Abaddon that he'd been seen ...” 

You frowned. “When did he say all this?” 

“On the phone. Look, it might mean that she knows that he's here, okay? So why don't you two check out the basement? I'll, uh, take a look on the main floor.” 

Dean took the Blade from Sam before he could argue, and you stared after the elder Winchester as he crossed the road. 

****

“I don’t know. I don’t see anything,” Sam said as he looked about the basement. 

You chewed on your bottom lip as you looked around, demon knife in hand. “What if Dean was lying?”

“What do you mean?”

You went to turn and face him but stopped when something caught your eye. 

“Wait,” you said. “Maybe he didn’t.”

“Y/N,” Sam said as he watched you walk through an open door into the other half of the basement. “Be careful.”

“Oh, now don’t be dramatic.” Your blood ran cold at the sound of the sing-song voice. 

You turned to see Abaddon leaning back against the wall by the door. You looked at Sam. He looked as sick as you felt. There was a moment of silence as the two of you stared at each other. A moment of realisation that you were in serious danger, and there was nothing either of you could do about it.

The moment broke as Sam rushed forward. The door slammed shut, cutting the two of you off from each other. You flinched when you heard him throw himself against the door and scream your name in desperation.

Abaddon smiled and pushed off the wall. You took a step back. 

“Never fear, pet,” she said. “I’m not here to hurt you. That comes later.”

“Look, I’m sorry for whatever I did to you.”

She laughed and took a few steps forward. “Oh, I’ll bet you are.”

You took another step back. “But I don’t remember it. Any of it. That wasn’t me.”

“Oh, but it was.” 

She moved forward again and your back hit a set of shelves. She smiled and braced herself against the shelf above your head as she leaned in close. Her breath was hot as it hit your face. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, pet. The Winchester boys are going to die. Painfully. So is your little daddy upstairs. So is everyone you have ever loved. Then, when you are broken and drowning in your own pitiful sorrow … I’m going to break you some more. You’ll be a shadow of what you are now. Best of all, you’ll be mine and only mine.”

She was gone and you were left frozen, staring at nothing. The unfairness of it all sunk in. You were suffering the consequences of a scorned love from a life that you didn’t even remember living. 

How were you meant to live a happy life with the people you loved when your past lives wouldn’t let you go? 

Large, rough hands engulfed your face. Sam’s terrified eyes came into view.

“Please tell me you’re okay,” he said. 

You couldn’t do anything but look up at him in shock. 

“Baby, say something. Come on.”

You shook your head. “She’s not gonna stop,” you whispered. “This is my fault.”

“No –”

“Dean. She’s going to kill him.”

****

The relief you felt when you broke through the penthouse door to find Dean impaling Abaddon with the Blade, was enough to bring you to your knees.

And when Abaddon was dead and the anger encompassed Dean in a wrath worthy of the devil, you crawled to him and wrapped your hands around his bicep. 

He froze, his arm raised with the Blade still clutched in it, blood splattered over his face and clothes. As he looked down at you, his scowl melted away into the fearful, lost look of a little boy. He dropped the Blade like it burned and fell into you. 

You cradled his head to your chest and rocked him as you murmured reassurances in his ear. You were sure your ribs would be bruised from how hard he squeezed you.   
It was a short while before he could pull himself together, and when he did, he helped you to your feet before turning away and busying himself with cleaning up. 

With Dean not being able to even look at you, and Sam too unsure of his place in the situation, you went to Crowley who was stuck in a chair trying to dig a bullet out of his shoulder. A bullet with a devil’s trap carved into the end. 

In true Crowley fashion, he chose that moment to tell you, you had a brother in the next room. It was too much to deal with, and to be honest, you weren’t sure that you could deal with a miniature Crowley. 

After everything, you weren’t sure that you could even feel much else. All you could do was collapse into a chair and let a soothing numbness flood your body. 

“You could at least -- aah! -- help me with this,” Crowley grunted as he dug the knife he had, deeper into his shoulder to dig the bullet out. 

You ignored him. Stared at the ground like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

“We didn't kill you, Crowley,” Sam said, “even though it would've been very easy. Isn't that enough?”

“You owe me. Do I get no credit for warning you this was a trap?” Sam scoffed as he picked up the Blade and rolled it up in a piece of cloth. Dean walked back in. “’Poughkeepsie’ ring a bell?”

You looked up at that. Sam gave Dean a hard look. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be surprised let alone angry that Dean had lied. What would be the point?

Crowley chuckled as he looked between Sam and Dean. “I sense drama.”

Dean looked away from Sam’s accusing eyes. “I just still can't get over the fact that Crowley has a son.” He looked at Crowley. “How's he doing, by the way?”

“Ow!” Crowley snapped as he finally dug the bullet out. “How do you think?”

“You get that he's got to go back, right? To his own time?”

Crowley sighed as he looked up at Dean. “If the lad goes back, his destiny is to board a ship bound for America. That ship went down in a storm. All hands were lost. He had one chance in this world to change his life. You want that to all end in tragedy?”

“Well, I don't know what to tell you. Them's the rules. He goes back.”

“The lore all says the same thing,” Sam said, “you change any one thing in the past, the ripple effect impacts everything that follows.”

“Please,” Crowley scoffed. “No one bends the rules like you three bend the rules. He's one misfit kid. He impacts no one.”

“You don't bend that rule, okay? You don't. We'll take him back to the bunker, figure out the spell. That's the way it's got to be.”

Crowley growled in frustration and stood up. “Can I at least say goodbye?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just headed to the bedroom door. He stopped before he entered and looked back. “I'll cheer the day when the last trace of humanity leaves me. Feelings.”

He entered the room and Dean glanced at you a moment, seeming to hesitate before he finally approached and crouched down in front of you. 

“You okay?” he said.

“She’s in shock,” Sam said. 

“What, she can’t talk for herself?” Dean growled. 

Sam rolled his eyes but you looked at neither of them. In fact, your eyes were still fixed on the door Crowley had gone through.

“You shouldn’t have let him in there,” you said. Your voice sounded strange to you. Like it wasn’t you speaking. 

Dean looked at the door then at Sam. 

Crowley was gone when they opened it. So was Gavin.

****

You dreaded the drive home. You knew, before you even got into the car, that Sam and Dean would fight. 

Dean was miles away and speeding down a back road when you had the first thought to jump out of the car. You wondered if you could survive it. And if you didn’t … well, even better. 

“I didn't tell you guys about the warning because I knew exactly what you would do,” Dean growled as Sam scowled at him. “You would make sure that you were right alongside me going in that room.”

“You mean like we always do?” Sam said. “Because we're actually partners in this and we watch each other's backs?”

“I don't expect you to understand.”

“Try me.”

Dean sighed and his jaw ticked in frustration and reluctance. “First time I touched that Blade ... I knew. I knew that I wouldn't be stopped. I knew I would take down Abaddon and anything else if I had to. And it wasn't a hero thing. You know, it wasn't ... it was just calm. I knew. And I had to go it alone, Sammy.”

“Oh. Of course. So you just thought you had to protect us,” Sam snapped as he threw up a hand. 

“Either one of you could've gotten nabbed by Abaddon, and she could've bargained her way out. We couldn't afford to screw this up.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have really mattered anyway!”

Dean gave him a confused look. “What?”

“While you were upstairs going it alone, Abaddon cornered Y/N in the basement.”

“What?” Dean looked over his shoulder at you. “Are you okay? What did she do?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled as you stared out your window. 

“Well, did she say anything?”

You said nothing for a moment, then, “No.”

Dean opened his mouth to snap at you for lying. Sam hit on his shoulder with the back of his hand and shook his head when Dean looked at him. 

It was a silent plea to just leave you alone. 

“Look ... I'm glad it worked out, okay?” Sam said when Dean turned back in his seat. “I am. And I'm glad the Blade gives you strength or calm or whatever, but, Dean, I got to say ... I'm starting to think the Blade is doing something else, too.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I don't know. Like, something to you. Look ... I'm thinking until we know for sure that we're gonna kill off Crowley, why don't we store the Blade somewhere distant? Lock it up somewhere safe? Okay?”

Dean’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “No.”


	48. Stairway of Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes you and Sam up at an ungodly hour to trek halfway across the country for Cas. When you arrive, however, nothing is as it seems. Between suicide bombers and Dean falling into the deep-end, you're sent down your own spiral and can only find comfort in Gadreel's arms.

Sam’s warm, naked body was wrapped around yours in his bed. His leg thrown over one of yours, his chest pressed against your back, and his thick arms cocooning around you. 

The room was silent. Not even your breaths were heavy enough to be heard. Every so often, your brow would furrow and you’d shift restlessly. Sam would squeeze you tighter and bury his face further into the back of your neck. 

The moment was calm and innocent, free of the pressures of past mistakes. 

That didn’t stop Dean from blasting the music from his phone at the end of the bed. 

Sam shot up in fright. Pulling his gun from under the pillow and aiming it at Dean. You’d been pushed behind him, your instinctual reaction to pull the sheet up and cover your bare body. 

“Nice reflexes,” Dean said as he shut the music off. 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you sank back down against the pillows with a sigh. 

“What's wrong with you?” Sam said, still half-asleep as he rubbed a hand over his eyes and lowered his gun. “I could have shot you.”

You glanced at the clock on the side table. “Why aren't you sleeping, Dean?” you mumbled as you closed your eyes again and curled up in the warm spot your and Sam’s bodies had made. “We got in like two hours ago.”

“Not tired. And we got work to do, so put on your dancing shoes, and let's boogie.”

You flinched and cracked your lids to glare at Dean’s retreating back after he tossed your boots onto your legs. 

You grumbled under your breath and kicked them off the bed. 

“Tell me he’s not serious,” you said, as you rolled to your stomach and turned your head to look at Sam. 

He shifted and leaned back against the headboard, his hand falling to stroke your back. 

“Doubt it. This is the second night in a row he hasn’t slept. He’s gotta crash sometime.”

You let out another sigh and closed your eyes. “He won’t. The Mark’s screwing with his head.”

“Maybe if you –”

“No.”

Sam pressed his lips together and pulled his hand from your back. “Y/N.”

You heaved out one last sigh in mourning for your lost sleep and pushed yourself into a seated position. The sheet pooled around your waist. 

“Look, nothing I do is going to help him.”

“Y/N, I’ve seen how he reacts when you touch him. You have this … weird effect against the Mark. It’s like you neutralise it, or something.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, well, he’s been avoiding me like the plague. I haven’t been alone with him since … well, since Crowley called us to kill Abaddon. It’s like he doesn’t want help.”

“You never wanted help. We gave it anyway.”

****

You slumped down into one of the chairs in the library and watched as Dean packed his duffel on the table. Sam braced one hand against the back of your chair, a cup of coffee in his other. 

“Alright. What's up?” Sam said as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“I called Cas. He said there's something going down in Missouri,” Dean said without looking up. 

“What kind of something?”

“He said he couldn't talk about it over the phone.”

“Why?” you said. 

“Because he’s a weird guy, okay?” Dean said, finally glancing up at you. “He's a weird, dorky, little guy. But he happens to have an army of angels behind him, and, even though I hate to say it, if we're gonna take a shot at Metatron, they might be useful.”

Dean opened the metal lockbox sitting by his duffel and took out the wrapped-up Blade. You and Sam shared a look.

“Well, do you think we need the First Blade?” Sam said. “Why don't we just leave that here?”

“We talked about this, and we decided that –”

“No, Dean. You decided,” you said. 

His tongue flicked out over his bottom lip. “Okay, I decided that a hockey stick that can kill anything might come in handy, so sue me.”

“How many times have we been around this block?” Sam said. “Magic that powerful comes at a price, and right now we don't know what that price is.”

“I'm fine. I'm fan-friggin'-tastic.”

“And I'm glad, honestly. I'm not saying we bury the thing. I'm saying we just save it for when we really need it. The big boss fights. You don't have to have it with you all the time, right? I mean, just leave it. Please.”

Dean looked between the two of you. His jaw ticked as he placed the Blade back on the table by the bag. “No problem.”

“Thank you.”

****

The thing Cas said was going down in Missouri was an angel kill in the middle of an ice cream parlour that left dead humans behind as well. 

“Okay, so, what is this, some sort of mass smiting?” Dean said.

“I don't know what this was,” Cas said as he looked around at the destruction in the store. “Never seen anything like it. Six humans died here ... and one angel.”

“One of yours?” you said.

Cas nodded. “Was a good soldier. This attack ... I knew he wanted a war, but this ... this is abhorrent, even for him.”

Cas, understandably, didn’t want to stick around the parlour too long. He took the three of you straight back to his command centre where you met an angel named Hannah.

“The Winchesters -- I've heard so much about you,” she said with a smile when Cas introduced you all.

“What can I say? Cas is a fan,” Dean said.

An angel in a red shirt approached the three of you then and took the box of evidence that Cas had gathered from the crime scene. 

“I'll start to examine this evidence,” he said before turning his back on Sam’s protests.

“Sir, this morning, Josiah wasn't at roll call,” Hannah said.

You raised your brows at Cas. “Uh, roll call? You hold a roll call?”

“They like to hear me say their names,” Cas said.

You stifled your smile and gave Sam and Dean a teasing look. “I know two guys like that.”

Dean gave you a sultry smile and Sam coughed into his hand to avoid everyone’s eyes. 

“No one's seen Josiah since Ezra was murdered,” Hannah said. “We think that –”

“You think Josiah's the killer, that he’s the mole?” Sam said.

“Well, who else? We searched the grounds, but he's vanished.”

“Not without wings,” Dean said. “He's an angel, but he's still got to travel like he's a human, which means walk, drive -- means he's gonna leave a trail.”

You headed for the nearest computer, Sam following close behind to brace himself over you when you sat down. 

“Alright. What was his vessel's name?” you said.

“Sean Flynn from Omaha,” Cas said.

You turned the computer screen around when you managed to bring up a photo ID. “This the guy?”

Cas nodded once. “Yeah, that's him.”

You turned the screen back and worked your magic. “Alright. Looks like someone just used his credit card at a Gas-n-Sip in Colorado.”

A smug, proud smile lit up Dean’s face. “And that's how we do things in the pros,” he said to Hannah.

The angel with the red shirt turned from his computer a few desks down. “Commander. I have something. This phone's memory chip has a video time-stamped just before the explosion.”

You all gathered around to watch. The video showed Cas’s dead angel committing the angel version of a suicide bombing in his name. It was enough to send Cas’s face a sickly green. 

“What the hell was that?” Dean growled when a little girl’s scream was cut off by the video dying. 

“I don't know,” Cas said as he crossed his arms and looked around. You thought maybe he’d wanted to hug himself, pretend he hadn’t just witnessed one of his own murdering human children. “I didn't -- I would never ask an angel to sacrifice himself to kill innocents. I'm gonna be sick.”

You placed your hand on his back in a weak effort of comfort, but what else could you do? Later, you could sit with him and talk – let him cry if he needed it – but in the middle of the command centre? In front of everyone? You could do nothing but watch him blame himself.

“Cas, why would an angel blow up a Colonel Scoop's in your name?” Sam said.

“That's not what he was doing,” Hannah said. She looked back at the computer screen. “Roll it back. There.” She pointed to the little girl in the booth. “That was an angel -- Esther. She's one of Metatron's.”

“So, this was some kind of hit?”

“I don't know.”

“Stop saying you don't know,” Dean snapped. 

“Dean,” you snapped in return. 

You moved to put yourself between him and Cas. The look he gave you sent chills up your spine. He had never liked it when you took anyone’s side but his but never had he looked at you with so much … you wanted to call it hatred but it had only lasted a split second and you’d never known Dean to actually hate you. 

You weren’t sure that he was even capable of it. 

Your gaze slid down to where the Mark peeked out beneath his sleeve. If anything could make him hate you, it would be that. It was changing him in the worst way. 

“You can't think I would allow something like this,” Cas said, having missed the way Dean had looked at you. 

“Cas, I know you try to be a good guy, okay? I do. You try. But what you got here, this is a freakin' cult.”

“Dean.”

“And the last time you had this kind of juice, you did kill humans and angels, and you did nothing but lie to me, Sam and Y/N about it the whole damn time!”

You growled his name again and stepped forward to push him back from Cas. He looked down at you and there was that look again. Only this time, it lasted a lot longer than a second and everybody saw it. 

And it was most definitely hatred. 

Nausea twisted your stomach and you took a step back from him – from the loathing that filled his features. It was so jarring that Cas stepped out from behind you and wrapped his hand around your arm, preparing to push you back behind him. Even Sam stepped forward and gave Dean a shove.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam growled. 

Dean seemed to snap out of it. He looked up at Sam first, then at Cas. He looked at little … lost. Like he wasn’t entirely sure what just happened. His eyes dropped to you next, but whatever he saw in your eyes made him so ashamed that he couldn’t look at you longer than a few seconds. 

“We need to take this somewhere else,” Sam said, disbelief and anger still evident in his face. 

Dean turned on his heel and headed towards Cas’s office. Sam looked at you. 

“That wasn’t him, Y/N,” Sam said. His voice taking on that soothing gentleness that it had when he talked to victims. 

“Wasn’t it?” you ground out through clenched teeth as a tear fell down your cheek. You swiped it away before anyone but Cas or Sam could see, then marched off after Dean. 

Once the four of you were in the office, you and Dean stayed as far away from each other as you could. Still, he couldn’t look at you. 

“Look,” Sam said, giving the two of you a wary glance. “We gotta … you gotta stow the baggage, Dean. We've got a case. Let's work it. Cas, did you know the angel in that video?”

“Yes,” Cas said. He was standing close by you, eyeing Dean. “His name was Oren. He was a new recruit. He worked in community outreach.”

“And what does that mean?” Dean said. 

“Some of my troops are stationed at a local hospital. They help where they can. Minor miracles -- it's nothing that would attract attention.”

“So, what was he doing in that video, with the stabbing?” Sam said. 

“The Enochian runes that were carved in his chest – I ... I think that they were meant to focus energy. When he stabbed himself, it unleashed all that power.”

“So, what about the girl? What happened to her?” you said, hugging your arms around you.

You glanced at Dean, caught him looking. He looked away before you could lock eyes. 

“If she was the target,” Cas said, “if the blast was focused on her, then more likely than not, she -- she was atomized. So, what do we do now?”

“Well, you don't do jack. We’ll head to the hospital, see if we can find somebody who knew this ... walking nuke,” Dean said.

Cas’s brows furrowed. “Hold on. These are my people. I can help.”

“Well, that's sort of the problem. I mean, the Manson girls aren't gonna give us a straight answer with Charlie in the room, so just hang back.”

“So, I should just sit here?”

“Pretty much.”

Cas stepped forward, his face set in determination. You’d never seen him stand up to Dean like that. Then again, you’d never seen Dean so on edge and stubborn. 

“No,” Cas growled. “If you don't want my help, then I will follow Josiah's trail to Colorado. I have to do something, Dean.”

Dean’s jaw ticked as he stared down Cas. “Alright, fine. But Sam's coming with you.”

“What?” Sam said. 

“Because you don't trust me?” Cas said.

“To help.”

“I’ll go,” you said. “Sam will be more help with you, Dean.”

“No. You’re staying with me,” Dean growled, finally locking eyes with you. 

All you saw was a blank mask he’d slammed into place. And you wondered how the hell the two of you had come to this? Where had it all started? When had he stopped trusting you with his vulnerabilities?

With his heart.

When had you stopped fighting for that trust? 

Dean left when no one argued with him. You pressed your lips together and felt your jaw tick in anger. You made to storm out yourself – go outside, go … anywhere that wasn’t near Dean – but Sam stopped you with a hand on your arm.

“Could you give us a second, Cas,” he said. 

The angel nodded once and left the office. 

Sam turned to you. “Look, I don’t like you staying here with him –”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” you said.

His brow furrowed at your dig and he opened his mouth to say something but stopped and thought for a moment. Finally, he nodded. “You’re right. I should’ve had your back. Even though I knew it wouldn’t have made a difference … I should’ve said something.”

You rolled yours eyes and pushed past him to lean back against Cas’s desk. “You don’t have to be so reasonable about it,” you mumbled. 

Sam gave you a small smile and moved forward until you had to crane your neck to look up at him. 

“I’m not Dean, Y/N. Fighting with you … it’s not something I want. If I have a problem, I want to talk to you about it. And I’m not too proud to admit when I could have done something better.”

You pressed your lips together and looked away from him as you crossed your arms. Guilt niggled at your chest because you were like Dean in that regard. Fighting always came easier to you than anything else. You felt ashamed whenever Sam took the high road. 

“What do you want, Sam?” you said. 

“Like I said, I don’t like you being with Dean on your own. Not when he’s got that thing on his arm. I’m gonna call you every hour on the hour. If you don’t pick up, I’m coming straight back, no matter what.”

You frowned and looked back up at him. “You don’t think … Sam, he wouldn’t – Dean wouldn’t hurt me … would he?”

Sam swallowed and gave you a sad look. “Normally I would say there’s no chance in hell, but the way he looked at you today … when you stuck up for Cas. The Mark is doing something to him, Y/N. And I’m starting to think that whatever it is … it doesn’t like you messing with it.” He lifted his hand to your face and hesitated a moment before he cupped your cheek. “Be careful, okay? And keep your phone on you. I would do anything to keep you safe, Y/N. Even if I have to protect you against Dean.”

You said nothing – you didn’t know what you could say – and he turned to leave. You tried to remember the last time he kissed you goodbye, and you couldn’t. Your eyes welled at that thought.

“Sam,” you said. Your voice broke in the middle of his name. You pushed off the desk as he turned to you. “I …”

You should apologise. You knew you should. Say something like “I’m sorry for being such a pain in the ass”, or “thank you for putting up with me”. But none of those words left your lips. No words did, in fact.

Why was it so hard? Why couldn’t you show him the same respect and patience that he showed you? Why couldn’t you tell him how grateful you were for him? 

Was it because you’d never depended on anyone for anything until you met the brothers? Was it because they were the first ones who had ever given you something to be grateful for? 

Sure, Cas and Crowley had helped you when you were a child, but Sam and Dean … especially Sam … he changed your entire life. 

He smiled at you. It was a smile that said he knew. He knew how much you loved him. He knew how much he had done for you – how thankful you were for all of it. He knew, and you didn’t have to say a word. 

He walked back and kissed you, holding your face between his large hands as he slid his tongue against yours. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. “Nothing will ever change that.”

****

Once Sam and Cas left, you went in search of Dean. There was a reason he wanted you to stay, it was better to get it over with quick. 

You found him in one of the halls, about to go in and interrogate an angel. He stopped when he caught sight of you.

“Oh, sorry,” you said. “You’re busy.”

“No,” he said, a little too urgently. “No, uh, it can wait. What do you need?”

You frowned slightly and took a few steps towards him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Uh, you were pretty adamant about me staying here.”

He shrugged. “What, I can’t spend time with my wife anymore?”

You scoffed. “Not sure that I really feel like your wife anymore. Or that you even want me to be.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t start with that self-pity crap.” Your head jerked back in shock at the utter disrespect in his voice. “How many times are we gonna go down this ‘woe-is-me’ path, huh? You – you hate yourself, then we have to listen to you bitch about how we don’t love you enough, then a good roll around in the sack, pop some pills and you’re all good again, right? That’s how this goes? Well, I’m sick of it. I don’t got time for your crap, Y/N. Get yourself sorted, or don’t bother coming back to the bunker.”

He burst through the door into the interrogation room and left you standing in the middle of the hall, tears streaming down your cheeks and your face set in shock. 

You don’t know how long you stood there. You weren’t even sure that you’d moved a single muscle, your brain shut down the moment the words left Dean’s mouth. But you were there long enough that Hannah came looking for you.

“Oh, my … are you alright?” she said when she saw your face. 

You stared at her for a moment, her face was filled with the kind of horrified concern that you would give someone who’d just been in a serious accident. 

And that – that right there, the way she looked at you – was what made you realise how true Dean’s words were.

You were a mess. You did keep repeating the same mistakes, and you’d asked too much of Sam and Dean. How could you expect them to be patient when you weren’t making steps to change? 

The problem was, you didn’t know how to change. You didn’t know how to switch your feelings off because it wasn’t just bad feelings you were experiencing. It was mental illness, and you couldn’t switch that off. Sam and Dean couldn’t handle it and you couldn’t go back to a life without them so what did that leave you with? 

You had to bury it. Bury it so deep that no one who ever looked at you could believe you were so far gone that suicide didn’t even seem like a good enough option. 

You counted backwards from five, smiled, and said, “I’m fine.” Then you left the building and gave yourself ten solid minutes of sobbing before you cleaned yourself up and walked back in. 

Ten minutes was all you got to let everything out, to allow yourself the weakness of broken despair, before you locked it all down and prayed that it wouldn’t tear you apart trying to claw its way back out. 

You avoided Dean for most of the day, even managed to sound put-together on the phone when Sam called you, but the elder Winchester was slowly spiralling out of control. First it was one of the angel’s that worked at the local hospital as a doctor. Then it was a reaper he knew named Tessa – he cut her up then she died in his care. 

He said she threw herself on the Blade – of which he’d promised to leave at home. That was the last straw, you let the angels tie him down, then you called Sam. 

You were sitting on a table in the interrogation room, watching over Dean while you waited for Sam and Cas. 

Dean rattled the cuffs around his wrists. “Baby, let me out,” he said.

“No.” You looked at him. “And don’t call me ‘baby’.”

Dean sighed, his face was set in anger. The lack of remorse in his eyes steeled your resolve against him. “Come on, Y/N. If this is about earlier –”

“You were right,” you said. “Everything about me is fucked up. I’m needy and insecure. I’m high maintenance, and I get it, you’re tired of keeping up. Who wouldn’t be? So, I’m doing you a favour, Dean. I’m doing us all a favour. I’m shutting it down, all of it. All the bad bits that you can’t stomach anymore. But with them goes the good parts too.”

Dean scoffed. “You can’t just shut all that off. It’s who you are.”

“How do you think I survived a childhood of rape and emotional abuse? How do you think I survived all those years, on my own, in a psych ward, knowing full well I wasn’t meant to be there? Believing I was never getting out? I’m pretty damn good at not being me, Dean.”

Your eyes locked and for a moment you hoped that it was guilt you saw in his eyes. Sorrow, even. But if you started thinking like that, if you started believing he’d never meant what he said, you’d just go back to what you were. 

And Dean had made it clear that he didn’t want what you were.

The door to the interrogation room opened. 

“He put up a fight,” Hannah said, her hands up in defence as Cas and Sam took in Dean’s bloody nose.

Sam pressed his lips together and shook his head at Dean. Cas told Hannah to leave before he rushed to Dean’s side to undo the cuffs.

Sam moved to you and cupped your face in his hands. “Are you alright?”

You frowned. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, his voice tight with built up frustration and anger. “I could hear it in your voice over the phone. Something’s wrong.” You glanced over at Dean, he watched you as Cas fussed with the cuffs. Sam looked over his shoulder at him before shifting his attention back to you. “Did he do something?”

You looked back up at Sam. “No. I’m fine.” You pushed his hands away from your face and slid off the table. 

“They said you killed Tessa?” Cas said when he got the cuffs off. 

“Not so much,” Dean said as he stood and stretched. “She knifed herself.”

“Yeah? Why would she do that, Dean?” Sam growled. He was already aggravated about the fact that Dean had done something to you – he was sure of that now – listening to Dean’s excuses just added fuel to the fire. 

“I don't know, Sam. She was saying all kinds of crap.”

“So that's why you brought out the First Blade?”

Dean dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. “They told you about that, huh?”

“No, Y/N did.” Dean’s eyes flicked to you. Sam’s shift was miniscule, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was putting himself between you and Dean. “We had a deal.”

“Yeah, well, it was a stupid deal.”

“Really? 'Cause if you'd stuck to it, Tessa would still be alive. Without her, we ain't got jack.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you think I don't know that? You think I wanted that to happen?”

“I don't know, Dean. Did you?”

“Alright, that's enough,” Cas said. “Stop it.”

The door opened to once again reveal Hannah. “Commander, I'm sorry, but you have a call ... from Metatron.”

The boys shared a look and you headed straight out of the room. Cas followed close behind, then Hannah. Dean tried to leave but Sam pushed him back.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Sam growled. 

Dean lifted his chin in defiance. “I didn’t do anything.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Then what did you say?”

“Nothing she didn’t already know.” 

Sam fisted his hands in Dean’s shirt and shoved him back against the nearest wall. “What did you say?”

“The truth! She needed to hear it. We can’t keep coddling her. She needs to get over her insecurities. Get over all of it.”

Sam let go of Dean and stepped back, a sick feeling rose into his chest.

Dean straightened out his shirt. He never saw the punch coming. A meaty smack sounded through the room. Pain bloomed across Dean’s jaw. He put a hand to it and looked back at Sam. His head snapped to the side again and he fell to one knee when another blow landed across his temple. He saw spots.

“You stay the hell away from my wife,” Sam spat. 

He stormed out, and the door frame rattled when the door slammed closed behind him. 

****

Dean was the last person to gather around the monitor that Metatron spoke through, having spent a few minutes nursing his throbbing head before following Sam out. 

He saw you standing between Cas and Sam, your arms folded. He stayed back, not sure that he wanted to risk being anywhere near you right now. Not with Sam around, anyway. He’d never seen his brother so murderous, not even at his worse. 

Sam’s hands kept flexing. Dean knew his brother was fighting the urge to hold onto you. No doubt he’d already tried and you’d brushed him off. 

Dean couldn’t figure out why he’d said what he did to you. Most of the time he just felt numb or sick. But it seemed like every time he laid eyes on you, anger flared up and the Mark burned. It seemed so odd considering when you touched him he felt the opposite. 

A part of him knew that what he said was unforgivable, that he would never actually believe the words that left his mouth. But when he started thinking that, when he let the guilt fester, when he tried to remember that he loved you – baggage and all – that he was willing to put in the work for you … the Mark would flare up and all he could see was red when he looked at you. 

It was like the Mark didn’t want him to care for you. And no matter how hard he tried to fight it … he had no control over it. He couldn’t stop the growing hatred for you, any more than he could stop loving you. It was a paradox that was tearing him apart. And the more he fell apart, the more the Mark made him hate you. The more he hated you, the more he fought to love you. 

And around it went. Until he was being beaten by his brother and barred from being anywhere near his own wife. 

“I didn't send anyone to kill you,” Cas said to Metatron. 

Dean drew in a deep breath and dragged his eyes from you. He forced himself to focus on Metatron’s face.

“Oh, stop lying, Castiel,” Metatron said.

“Who are you to lecture me on lying? Your deception led to the fall,” Cas growled.

Metatron leaned forward in his leather chair. “I did what I had to do. I have always done what I have to do, for God and for the angels.”

“Sure. Yeah, you're mother Teresa with neck beard,” you said.

“What I did was neither good nor bad. It was necessary -- a small hardship to make us all stronger, to make us a family again.”

“Yeah, except for the angels you had Gadreel kill,” Sam said.

Metatron rolled his eyes. “Okay, yes. Maybe I got a little carried away at first, but those days are over.” Scoffs sounded out from the crowd of angels. “A near-death experience makes you re-evaluate. So, one time only, I'm offering amnesty. Every angel, no matter what their sin, may join me and return to heaven. I will be their God, and they can be my heavenly host.”

“Why would we follow you?” Hannah said with a disbelieving shake of her head.

Metatron chuckled. “Well, look around. You've seen earth. You've had a taste of free will. I got to ask you -- do you like it? I mean, the way you've flocked off to follow Castiel tells me you need to follow someone. It's in your DNA. But Cas -- he's not what you think he is. He sends angels out to die. Have you told them about your stolen Grace, Castiel? How it's fading away, and when it burns out, so will you?” Cas shifted on his feet and glanced at you and Sam. “So ... no, then. I'm not the best, but I'm the best you've got. You want to stay with Castiel, fine, but he's playing you, because at the end of the day, the only thing he cares about is himself and the Winchesters. You've got a choice to make. Make the right one.”

Metatron cut the connection and Cas turned to the angels. “He's lying.”

“About the Grace?” Hannah said. 

Cas’s fingers played with the edges of his trench coat. “It's complicated.”

“So he wasn't lying,” said Flagstaff, the first angel Dean had hurt.

“He was, about everything else. He …” Whispers erupted amongst the angels. Cas looked at Hannah. “You believe me, don't you?”

“I want to believe you, but I ... we need proof.”

“Name it.”

Hannah pointed at Dean and the angels parted so everyone could see him. “Punish him.”

“What?” Dean said. 

“He murdered Tessa. He broke our rules.”

Dean scoffed. “Y'all can all go to hell.” He began pushing though angels to leave but they grabbed him and held him still.

Sam moved forward to help but he was subdued as well. You dropped your arms to your sides and looked between the brothers. 

“You gave us order, Castiel,” Hannah said, “and we gave you our trust. Don't lose it over one man.” She pulled an angel blade – the very blade she’d taken from Dean earlier – from the back of her jeans and held it out to Cas. “This is justice.”

Cas took the blade and turned it over in his hands. Sam looked at him in shock and Dean’s eyes moved straight to you.

You didn’t know what to do or how to feel. After what happened … after what you’d told him you were doing … but you couldn’t shut out your feelings for Dean. Not completely. 

The same thoughts seemed to flicker through his head. And the two of you realised that this could be the last time either of you see each other. 

Whatever seemed to be controlling him lately, wherever the anger seemed to be coming from, for a moment it was gone and Dean was back to his old self. The prospect of death after what he’d done to you was unacceptable. And no matter how hard the Mark tried, it couldn’t override Dean’s desperation in that moment. His desperation to tell you just one last thing, to make you believe it.

“I love you,” he said. 

The words snapped you into action, you stepped forward and grabbed the sleeve of Cas’s coat. “Cassie, please.” Your voice broke and he looked down at you. The moment he did, his mind was made up.

“No. I can't,” Cas said. 

Hannah’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. “Goodbye, Castiel.”

And that was the end of Cas’s army – one day with Dean was all it took. 

****

“You should have told me what our elite unit was for,” Gadreel said through clenched teeth as he looked up at Metatron. 

“Why? It was none of your business.” Metatron said as he leaned back against his desk. 

Gadreel stood from his leather chair. “Tessa, Constantine -- I recruited them, and you brainwashed them into blowing themselves up.”

“So? Well, that's an old writer's trick -- flipping the script.” 

Gadreel’s jaw ticked. He was tired of hearing Metatron’s metaphors. This wasn’t a story. It wasn’t a game. Innocent people were dying. 

“You start by building up a seemingly unbeatable enemy,” Metatron continued, “like the death star, or a rival angel with a bigger army. That way, I look like the underdog. But then, oh, no! The competition gets greedy. He starts pushing things too much. With the help of my combustible double agents. And then, after a rousing speech, his true weakness is revealed. He's in love with humanity. And now ... I'm inevitable.” 

Metatron chuckled and moved around the desk. 

“What about Josiah?” Gadreel said, remembering the burnt husk of an angel Metatron had left in that abandoned building for Cas to find. 

Metatron shrugged. “Mm. He was a loose end. I -- I told him where the gate was ... before we moved it. I just wish Cas had walked into one of those traps. Anyway, point is --while everyone else is playing checkers, I'm playing monopoly, and I always build a hotel on Boardwalk. And I always win.”

It was a concrete thought, then – in Gadreel’s mind – that no matter how much he loved you, no matter how much he wanted to restore you to what you were, Metatron was not a consequence you would survive. 

And that wasn’t acceptable. Gadreel would gladly spend millennia watching you grow old and die, watching you forget him, if it meant he could keep you out of the hands of Metatron. 

****

You sat at the top of the outer steps to the bunker. You stared at the steel door and wished that you had the strength to walk away from Sam and Dean. That you could ignore all the good that had happened between the three of you – all the sweet words, shared secrets and vulnerable, intimate moments – and just leave. 

You wished that the good moments weren’t worth the bad because the bad was a disaster to get through. 

“I know that look anywhere.” You twisted at the sound of Gadreel’s voice and looked up at him in shock. He smiled. “Are you going to run away, little one?”

“Gadreel,” you breathed. “What are you …?”

He looked around a moment before taking a few steps forward. “I came because you were right. And …” he sat next to you; his side pressed to yours and you found yourself liking the smell of his leather jacket, “I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“For everything. I have been selfish in my actions. I neglected to take into consideration what you wanted. Maybe one day you will want to be restored as an angel of the Lord, but right now … I must respect that you don’t. In my ignorance, I have sided with the enemy and for that, I am deeply sorry.”

You slid your hand up and entangled your fingers with his. His hand was warm, and it wrapped around yours in a protective way – in a way that seemed like he’d held your hand a million times before. And maybe he had. 

“Do you know why I don’t want to be what I was? It’s not ‘cause I don’t want to be an angel, or that I don’t want to be with you. It’s not even about Sam and Dean.” You looked up at him and saw nothing but patience and love. That’s all you ever wanted. “I’m scared, Gadreel. If this is what my life is like now … I can’t imagine remembering all the other lives I’ve lived.” You shook your head and the tears began falling. “I can’t. I can’t go through that. Gadreel, I –”

“Shh.” Gadreel pulled you into his body and wrapped his arms around you. He threaded his fingers through your hair as you sobbed into his shirt. “Hush, little one. You never have to go through that. I will spend the rest of my life watching over every life you live. I will be as involved as you want me to be. I will never restore you as an angel. I swear it.”

You sniffed. “When we’re done here – when Metatron is dead – you have to take me away from here. Far away, and you can’t let me come back, no matter how much I beg.” 

Gadreel closed his eyes at your words. He would give you the world if you asked it. But taking you away from the Winchesters was a much more difficult task. Your lives were too entwined now. If fate didn’t bring you back to the bunker, the brothers would … assuming you didn’t go back of your own free will. It was a promise Gadreel knew he could never keep. 

You pulled back and looked up at him. Your swollen eyes and red nose broke his heart.

“Promise me, Gadreel. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

That was a lie. He knew it, and no matter how deep you buried it, so did you. But still, it didn’t matter that he knew the outcome, he would die trying to keep his promise to you. 

“I swear to you, when Metatron falls, I will take you wherever you want to go.”

****

Sam’s face paled when he walked into the control room to find you and Gadreel stepping off the bottom step. You kept the angel behind you, your hand reaching back to clasp his.

“Guys!” Sam called.

Dean and Cas, who’d been sitting in the library, came to attention and stood from their chairs. 

“He’s not here to fight,” you said as the three of them closed in. You held your hand up to ward them off and pulled your other one from Gadreel’s grip so you could press it against his stomach, preparing to push him out of harm’s way.

“I thought about what you said,” Gadreel told Cas. “You're right. Metatron, he's ... something needs to be done.”

“And we should trust you why?” Sam said. 

“Because I am in love with Y/N.”

You looked back at him in shock. It was no secret how he felt about you, but he’d always been dubious about admitting it in front of the Winchesters.

Dean’s hands curled into fists, Sam shifted on his feet. Cas didn’t even look shocked. 

“I know none of you want to hear that,” Gadreel said, “but it is the truth. Everyone in this room has her best interest at heart. Metatron’s death is in her best interest.”

“Why?” Sam said. His jaw was tight but you could see he was trying to put his own issues aside.

“Because if he finds out who she is – what she is – he won’t just kill her.” Gadreel looked down at you. “He will hunt you down in every life you live. You will never be safe from him.” He looked back up at Cas, Sam and Dean. “I can give him to you. I know where Metatron is. I know everything.” He looked at Cas. “I know the bombers. They were his agents, not yours. You don't trust me, fine. I understand. I've ... made mistakes. But haven't you? Haven't we all? At least give me a chance.”

You turned back and watched the three of them. Cas already seemed happy to accept Gadreel’s peace offering. Sam and Dean didn’t look completely convinced, but they hadn’t tried to kill him yet so you took that as a good sign. 

Sam and Dean exchanged a look before Dean stepped towards the two of you. You stepped back into Gadreel and raised both your hands in defence. Gadreel’s hands landed on your shoulders and squeezed. He leant down and pressed his lips to your ear.

“It’s okay, little one,” he said. 

You saw Sam press his lips together in annoyance, but Dean’s blank gaze didn’t change. You swallowed once before stepping to the side and letting Dean approach Gadreel.

You let out the breath you’d been holding when Dean held his hand out to the angel. Gadreel glanced at you before he shook it. 

That’s when all hell broke loose and you knew that Dean was truly lost to the Mark and the Blade. 

The Blade was in his hands in seconds and he was snarling as Sam and Cas dragged him away. You cried out and fell to your knees beside Gadreel when he hit the floor, a slash of blue light bloomed from the deep gash across his chest. It faded away to reveal the blood that gushed out.


	49. Do You Believe In Nightmares?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the last episode of season 9, you, Gadreel and Cas infiltrate heaven to find the tablet and destroy it, while Sam and Dean hunt down Metatron.

Dean growled and snarled like an animal as Sam and Cas fought to hold him back from Gadreel. You were on your knees by the fallen angel. You pulled your flannel over your head and pressed it to the deep wound across his chest. 

He averted his eyes, but you weren’t concerned with being dressed in nothing but shorts and a bra. Your concern was with keeping Gadreel alive. 

Vaguely, you heard Sam call to you for help, but you were too focused, and too angry at Dean, to care much about looking at him let alone touching him to calm the Mark down. As far as you were concerned, Sam and Cas could deal with him.

They did, and you were out of the bunker the moment they dragged Dean out of the room. 

Gadreel leaned heavily against you and the two of you stumbled towards his car. His blood seeped through your flannel and dripped down your arm. 

It may have been better for him to stay at the bunker, but you’d lost all trust in Dean. You’d reached a point where you couldn’t even read him anymore. You didn’t know what he was thinking. What he wanted. Or how he would react to anything. He was too unpredictable. Unstable. 

He was too dangerous for even you to be around. 

You didn’t make it very far. Gadreel was losing too much blood to make it to the closest motel. You pulled over on the side of a back road and helped him to lie out in the grass. You called Cas for help, only to find that he and Sam were already hot on your trail. 

So, you stayed with Gadreel until they arrived. He was near unconscious and had trouble focusing. You cradled his head in your lap and stroked back his hair as you spoke to him. You rambled on about anything that came to mind. 

You just wanted to keep him awake. 

When Sam and Cas finally did arrive, it was another struggle just to get Gadreel to allow Cas to heal him. But you got there. Colour returned to Gadreel’s face just as it drained from Cas’s.

****

Summoning Crowley to the demon trap in the dungeon and not killing him was one of the hardest things Dean had to do that day. The Mark burned at the sight of the king, but he had more pressing matters.

Matters that were more important than killing Crowley. You, for example, and whatever the hell was happening to him.

Crowley’s nose wrinkled as he looked around the dungeon. “What's that smell?”

“What the hell's happening to me, you son of a bitch?” Dean said, his voice far shakier than he’d like it to be.

Crowley cocked a brow. “Liquor before beer, bad taco? How should I know?”

“I can't turn it off!” Dean snapped. “Ever since I killed Abaddon, it's -- it's like this whole ... other thing. I get this high and I-I-I need to kill. I mean, I really, really need to kill. And if I don't –”

“You yak your guts out. It's the Mark.”

Dean swallowed. “Meaning?”

Crowley shrugged as though the answer was obvious. “It wants you to kill. The more you kill, the better you feel. The less you kill, the less better you feel.”

“How much less better?”

“One would imagine the least-best better.”

Dean nodded and shifted on his feet. “So dead? Well, Cain had the Mark. He didn't die.”

“Cain was a demon. Your body's not strong enough to contain the Blade's power.”

 

Fear encased Dean’s heart and squeezed tighter with every word that left Crowley’s mouth. “What if I got rid of it?”

“You want to get rid of it?”

What he wanted was you. He wanted Metatron gone. He wanted the Mark gone. And he just wanted you. Always you.

Dean rubbed his hand over the Mark as an image of you popped into his mind. “It makes me feels things about her,” he murmured as he stared at the ground. “Bad things.”

“Y/N, I assume,” Crowley said. “Of course. I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. But, she’s as old as Cain. Maybe older. She’s probably connected to the Mark in some way. Our little kitten seems to be in the middle of everything.”

“You think I didn’t work that out already?” Dean growled. Crowley held his hands up. “I don’t … get it, I mean, when she touches me … I feel calm. I don’t feel the Mark anymore. But when she’s not, and – and I see her. It’s – It’s like I … hate her. Everything about her pisses me off. All the things that I love about her … I don’t see them anymore.” 

His voice broke. The anger flared up in him. The hatred. And he fought desperately to hold onto his love for you, but the Mark was getting stronger by the minute. 

“Well,” Crowley said, “that’s a dilemma if I ever saw one. Seems like the Mark sees her as a threat. My advice? Tie your hands to hers. Don’t let go. You want to marry my daughter? There’s your commitment.”

Dean considered it. For a moment, he thought of handcuffing the two of you together. Of never letting you go. The Mark rebelled. Nausea filled his stomach. His skin grew hot. And every thought of you inspired a loathing so great he was grinding his teeth. 

“No,” he said, his voice so cold and calm that Crowley took a step back. “Forget her. What I want is Metatron. But I have to get through that door, and I have to get to the Blade. And you're gonna help me.”

****

The Blade was gone. Dean wasn’t answering his phone. And Sam was more on edge than ever. 

“So that's what Dean cut me with -- the First Blade,” Gadreel said.

The four of you stood around the library table, the empty lock box sitting in the middle of it. You were back in one of Sam’s flannels.

You nodded and shifted on your feet. Gadreel’s body pressed against yours. His fingers played along your arm absentmindedly, and Sam was seething on the inside. 

He couldn’t stand seeing the two of you together. You were so natural. Sam had to keep reminding himself that you were his wife, not Gadreel’s. 

If he hadn’t been convinced before that the two of you were long lost lovers, he was now. Neither of you ever seemed to notice the way the two of you gravitated towards each other. The way you leaned against each other. And touched each other. 

Sam wanted to get angry at you, but you were so oblivious to your own actions that he didn’t think you’d even know what he was yelling at you for. And a part of him didn’t blame you. He could feel the energy between you. 

Cas seemed to be hit by it the hardest. He could barely look at the two of you let alone stand near you. The connection was intense. Goosebumps rose on Sam’s arms when the two of you looked at each other.

He was jealous and in complete awe all at once. He didn’t know what to do with himself. You and Gadreel were the literal definition of a power couple, and neither of you even knew it. 

“In a way, that could be useful,” Gadreel said, bringing Sam’s mind back to the matter at hand. “Metatron is more powerful than ever, but if Dean has the First Blade and the Mark, that might give us our best chance.”

Sam scoffed. “You're joking, right? An hour ago, we were ready to throw Dean into a padded cell, and now you say he's our best chance?”

“Hear him out, Sam,” you said. 

Seeing you take Gadreel’s side was a knife in the Winchester’s chest. Again, the urge to snap at you rose, but one look at your open, trusting face had him shutting that thought down. 

He didn’t want to treat you the way Dean did. He didn’t want that kind of relationship with you. He wanted to make good on his promises to you. 

Gadreel saw the hesitation in Sam’s face as he looked at you. The angel knew exactly how he was feeling. You were a hard woman to say ‘no’ to. And, unfortunately, Sam was stuck in the middle of doing what you wanted, doing what was best for you, and doing what was best for his brother. All of which led down a different path. 

Gadreel had made similar choices in his life with you. It was how he got locked up in the first place – by choosing what was best for you. Now, every time he looked at you, he wondered if he’d made the right choice. 

“Your brother would not be in this alone,” Gadreel said. “We can help.”

“How?” Sam said. 

“I believe Metatron has found a way to tap into the Angel tablet, harnessing its power to give him powers equivalent to –”

“God, right? I mean, that's what this is all about, isn't it? Metatron wants to be God.” Gadreel gave him a solemn nod. “Great, well, that basically makes him unstoppable.”

“Not if we can break the connection between Metatron and the tablet,” Cas said. “That would make him just an ordinary Angel.” He turned to Gadreel. “Where's the tablet?”

“Metatron's office,” Gadreel said. 

 

You looked up at him. “In heaven?”

He lifted a hand and smoothed it down the back of your head. Sam’s chest tightened. “I can get us to the door.”

“And then what?” Sam said, his voice harsh. “I mean, why would they let you in? If Metatron's number two shows up with heaven's most wanted, the gig is up.”

“Sam, we have to try,” Cas said. 

****

Dean was sat across from Crowley in the middle of a diner in a town far away from you. His gear was spread out on the table. 

Crowley sighed and looked about the diner. “So this is what you, moose and my daughter do, eh? Crisscross the country, searching for evil, order your nitrates, partake of the local attraction.”

Dean gave him mocking smile. “More like we partake in your daughter.”

Crowley’s jaw ticked slightly, but the over-confident smile stayed in place. “You never get tired of the rat race? Never get the urge to just ... bugger off and howl at the moon? Never ask yourself, ‘is this it? Is this all there is?’” Dean gave him a confused look and Crowley shifted in his seat. “I kicked human blood, you know.”

“Oh, so you're full-metal douche again. Well, that's fantastic. Would you like a stuffed bear?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Just trying to make conversation.”

Dean shook his head and turned his attention back to his laptop. “How's hell, Crowley?”

“Hell's fine. Hell's like a Swiss watch. Don't worry about hell.” A pause. “Hell's complicated.”

“’Game of Thrones’ is complicated. Shower sex -- that's complicated – especially with your daughter. Hell ain't complicated. Your problem ain't hell. It's you.”

Crowley cleared his throat to hide his angry tick that time. “Fair enough. What's your problem, then?”

“My problem is Metatron. Right now, there's nothing. There's no angel smitings, no crazy acts of God, no vermin, hail. If Metatron's making his move on earth, he is taking his sweet-ass time.”

“Never fear,” Crowley said as he watched two of his demons enter the diner. “Cavalry's here.”

One of them handed Crowley a smartphone before leaving when he motioned them away.

“And?” Dean said, an impatient growl to his voice. 

“Apparently... your angel has gone viral.”

Crowley handed the phone to Dean and the Winchester played the video on it. It was footage taken by two teenage boys witnessing Metatron bring a woman back to life. It seemed show-y and put on by Metatron. Even a little cringe-y. Until the end, when the woman came back to life and Metatron whispered something in her ear. 

“When was this taken?” Dean said. 

“A couple of hours ago,” Crowley said. “Muncie, Indiana.”

“What did he whisper in her ear?”

Crowley smiled. “Exactly.”

****

Sam’s eyes were shut as he drew in the scent of your hair. He’d caged you in against one of the library tables. Your forehead was pressed against his chest. He could feel your exhaustion.

Cas was off getting food. Gadreel had gone off to explore the bunker. And you and Sam had spent the last twenty minutes fighting. 

Or, you’d been fighting at least. Sam had stayed calm. Let you wear yourself out. 

“I just don’t want to lose you,” Sam murmured against your hair. “It would kill me if anything happened to you.”

“But we’re stronger together.” 

The words fell from your mouth. Too weak to fight anymore. Everyone was running around, terrified of Metatron. But Sam was most terrified of what this fight had done to you. Of what Dean had done to you. He was terrified of waking up one morning and finding you dead on his bathroom floor. 

“Not when Dean’s like this,” Sam said. He pulled back and lifted your face so you’d look at him. “I don’t trust him to be anywhere near you. I don’t want it to be like this, but you’ll be safer going with Gadreel and Cas.”

You twisted your fingers in his shirt and made one last ditch attempt. “But I don’t want to be safe, Sammy. I want to be with you.”

His heart ached at how fucked up and true that statement was. He’d long ago given up on trying to be good for you, but that didn’t mean the guilt wasn’t there. 

He cupped your face in his large hands and brought his forehead down to yours. “I know, baby. I want that too. But I can’t trust Dean. Especially not with the Blade. It makes me sick thinking about what he might do to you. Please, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you whispered, then you lifted your chin and gave him a chaste kiss. 

Then another. And another. Until his hands were at your waist and your lips were locked together. Until his tongue was sliding across yours and you were moaning into each other’s mouths. 

His hands were gripping your ass, and ripping off your shorts and underwear. They seemed to be everywhere all at once as he rushed to grope every inch of your body he could reach. 

He buried a hand into your hair, gripping it tight until your scalp burned, and pulled your head to the side. He was all teeth and tongue against the skin of your neck. Growling like a hungry animal. 

He tore open the front of your flannel. Buttons bounced along the ground. You had a flash of memory. Of Dean being snarky the first time Sam ruined his shirt trying to pull it off you.

It made you smile. 

Then Sam’s mouth and hand was at your breasts. Biting and sucking until they were red and raw. Your hands buried in his hair and you cried out when one of his hands dipped down between your folds. 

He moaned against your breasts, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as he soaked his fingers and rubbed them over your clit. 

You braced one hand on the table behind you as you leaned against it.

“Fuck, Sammy,” you moaned as you rocked your hips against his hand.

He pulled his mouth away from your breasts and moved up so his face was level with yours. He brought his free hand up and wrapped it around the back of your neck. 

“You like that, huh?” In one smooth motion, he slid his fingers down and pushed three of them into you. You groaned and dug your nails into his forearm as he began fucking you with them. “That’s it, baby. Spread those legs.”

You were half up on the table now. Balancing on the edge as you spread your thighs open for Sam. He curled his fingers up against your g-spot and the filthiest sounds echoed through the room. Not just from your mouth, but from between your thighs, too. 

Sam growled as he watched his fingers pound into you and become drenched with your juices. 

He pulled his body back enough so his view wasn’t obstructed as he started undoing his jeans with his other hand. He pushed them down past his ass and fisted himself in his hand when he sprung free. 

“See how hard you make me?” he grunted as he began stroking himself. 

“Sammy, please,” you whined. 

“I wanna try something,” he murmured as he slowed his fingers down to a soothing stroke. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

He pulled his fingers from your body and used them to lube up his cock with your juices. He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan as he massaged them into the head his cock. 

You gasped when he pushed his fingers back into you and curled them tightly against your g-spot. He didn’t move them. You gave him a confused frown, but before you could say anything, he pushed his cock into you as well, just beneath his fingers. 

“Holy shit,” Sam moaned. “You feel so fucking tight now.”

He had to lean over you to accommodate for the angle his arm was at, and all you could do was claw at him as your breath got caught up in your lungs.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, holding still as you adjusted to having both his cock and fingers in your pussy. 

You managed a nod and let out the breath you were holding. “It’s … intense. And really full.”

“I’ll stop.”

“No!” You gripped his shoulder to stop him from pulling back. “Please,” you whined. “I want you to fuck me like this.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded again and he captured your mouth with his as he started with a slow thrust. Every time he pushed in, his fingers were forced into your g-spot as the head of his cock hit you deep.

“Faster, Sammy.”

His lip snarled up and he let out a growl as he forced your shoulders back down against the table. His pace picked up to a pounding rhythm.

Movement flashed and Sam looked up to see Gadreel standing at the top of the stairs watching. His face was a blank mask, but Sam could imagine how the angel must have been feeling. 

If the Winchester ever walked in on someone other than Dean fucking you, his heart would be torn to shreds. 

He didn’t stop, though. A sick sense of satisfaction overwhelmed Sam. If anything, he fucked you harder. Made you scream his name louder. Sam wanted to show Gadreel that you only belonged to the Winchester boys. No one else. 

The angel could entertain any fantasy he wanted. But you were Sam’s. Not his.

The angel stood frozen at the top of the stairs. Your breasts bounced with every thrust and Sam reached up to squeeze one in his hand. 

“You like it when I fuck you like this, huh?” Sam growled. He wanted Gadreel to hear you say it. To hear you beg. 

“Yes,” you cried out. “I love it, Sammy. Oh, fuck. I’m gonna cum.”

“Fuck. Yes. Look at me. I want you to look at me while you cum.”

Like his good little girl, you did what you were told and looked at him. He groaned when he felt you clamp down around him so hard you almost forced him out of your body. 

You locked eyes with him for as long as you could, but then they were squeezing shut and your back was arching so much that Gadreel could see the pleasure in your face as you came around Sam.

“That’s it baby,” Sam moaned. “Good girl.”

Your legs began to shake and your back flattened to the table once more. Sam glanced back at the steps but Gadreel was gone so he switched his attention back to you. 

He withdrew his fingers and curled himself over your body as he slowed his thrusts. He braced his forearms on either side of your head and kissed you as you ran your hands up his sides and over his back. 

He made love to you then. Slow and steady until he was well and truly spent from the pleasure he found between your legs. 

And when he was done, he held you too him, feeling more secure and satisfied than he had in a long time. 

****

The door to heaven was in a kid’s playground. Whether intentional or not, there was no mistaking the symbolism in the location. 

There was a woman and a young girl there. Both of which, Gadreel had informed you and Cas, were Metatron’s most loyal subjects. 

“You said you had a plan,” Gadreel said. “How we might convince them to let us pass?”

A self-satisfied smile curled Cas’s lips as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from the pocket of his trench coat and held them up. “Wookiee.” 

Gadreel gave you a confused look and you smiled. He turned back to Cas. “Brother, I have no idea what that means.”

“It's a reference to a very popular film that -- never mind.”

You pressed your lips together to stifle your laugh, and slapped on the cuffs that Cas handed back to you. 

Metatron’s angels seemed suspicious when Gadreel rolled up with you and Cas both in cuffs, but they let the three of you through the door, and suddenly you were being carted in to Metatron’s office by Hannah and another angel named Ingrid. 

****

Dean’s jaw ticked when he pulled up to an RV park to find Sam already waiting outside the home of the woman in the video. 

“I got this,” Dean said to Crowley as he climbed out of the Impala. 

“I guess one of us doesn't need a demon to help follow a clue trail,” Sam said as Dean approached him. “You're looking for miracle lady, right? Yeah, she's gone. I had a nice chat with her, though.”

“Sam, whatever kind of intervention you think this is, trust me, it ain't,” Dean growled. “I'm not gonna explain myself to you.”

“Yeah, I sort of got that.”

Dean clenched his teeth once more and looked around. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Not here,” Sam said, his voice cold at the mention of you. “I meant it when I told you to stay away from her.”

“She’s my wife.”

“She’s my wife, too,” Sam snapped. He shook his head when Dean rolled his eyes in response. “You’re not safe for her right now, Dean. There’s no way it hell I’m letting you near her while you have the thing on your arm.”

“Yeah, well, what if it never comes off, Sammy?” 

His voice broke, and for the first time, Sam could see the fear in his brother’s eyes. He realised how stupid he’d been. He’d spent all his time worrying over keeping you safe from Dean – worrying about the pain Dean was causing you – that he didn’t stop to think about how Dean felt about the whole situation. To look at the woman you love, to remember every perfect moment you’d spent with her, and yet only feel hate and anger towards her. Sam couldn’t begin to imagine how that must feel.

Sam sighed and softened his voice. “I just thought you might like to know that while you two have been playing, uh, odd couple, your real friends, like Cas, like the angel you stabbed, Gadreel … like – like our wife ... they're out there right now risking their asses to help you win this fight.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“A fight, I might add, you made that much more complicated when you decided to stab the one angel who could actually get us to Metatron.”

Dean’s irritation flared up. “You mean the angel that took Y/N for a joy ride? The angel that confessed his love for her? The angel that slaughtered Kevin? That angel?”

“Who we let in the front door in the first place. We tricked her, Dean. And now she’s the one who wakes up in the middle of the night seeing her hands kill Kevin, not you. Which you know nothing about because you can’t go five minutes without fighting with her. So, please, when you say you don't want to explain anything to me, don't. I get it.” Sam drew in a deep breath and tried to remember what he was here for. “And I also get that Metatron has to go. And I know you're our best shot to do that.”  
Dean nodded. “I'm gonna take my shot, for better or worse.”

Sam tucked his hands into his pockets. “I know.”

“No matter the consequences.”

“I know. But once we’re done here, we’re getting that thing off your arm. And then we gotta make things right with Y/N. For real this time. We’ve been given way too many chances and we’re on the brink of losing her. We can’t screw this up again.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I get it.”

“Do you?”

“She’s the only thing that keeps me going anymore, Sammy. You really think I don’t?”

Sam nodded his approval. “Good. If this is it, we're gonna do it together. You want to know what he whispered to her, right, in the video? His next stop.”

A door slammed and Crowley’s voice carried over to the brothers. “So, what are we all golly wagging on about? Chop-chop.” Sam and Dean both turned to scowl at him. “Excuse me. I'm not exactly demon minion number three here. As the kids say, I've got mad skills.”

Dean shook his head and approached the king. “Look, I don't know what you expected here, okay. I don't really care, but you wanted off the hamster wheel. Get off.”

Crowley scoffed. “Well, I guess I've been Winchestered. I'd wish you boys good luck ... if I thought it would help.”

****

You should have known it was far to easy to get into heaven. The moment you were in Metatron’s office, the illusion fell and the three of you were locked in cells. You and Cas were in one, Gadreel was in the next. 

“Did you really think your little ruse would work?” Ingrid said. 

Gadreel begged to be let out, the panic in his voice had you wishing you could claw through the wall to him. 

Ingrid moved to stand in front of your cell. “Welcome to heaven's jail. I believe Gadreel can give you the tour.”

It was at least a few hours before Hannah came back to stand guard. You sat in the back of the cell by the wall, talking to Gadreel. He barely spoke back but that didn’t bother you. You just wanted him to remember that he wasn’t alone. That you were still there with him, and you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

Cas, on the other hand, took the opportunity to try to convince Hannah to switch sides once more.

“Okay, so you're telling me that Metatron set you up, arranged those suicide bombers to make himself look like the victim,” Hannah said. She scoffed. 

“Gadreel was his second in command,” Cas said. “For what other reason than the truth would he turn against Metatron?”

“So now I'm expected to trust the word of an angel who's only ever thought of himself since the Garden, and you? You told us not a single angel more would die in this fight.”

“What do you think I have been trying to do?”

“Trying?” Hannah snapped as she approached the cell door. “By killing Metatron?”

“He is the reason for all of our suffering,” Cas growled.

“Nothing you say matters.”

“Would you rather I not try at all?”

“Not if you can't prove it.” She turned back to lean against the wall.

“So give us a chance,” Cas said. “Let us out, Hannah. Please.”

There was a moment of silence as Hannah once again ignored his plea. Then there was a scuffle in Gadreel’s cell and you stood to face the wall.

“I sat in this hole for thousands of years,” Gadreel said, “thinking of nothing but redemption, of reclaiming my good name and my mate. I thought of nobody, no cause, other than my own.”

“You've been redeemed, my friend,” Cas said.

“The only thing that matters in the end is the mission -- protecting those who would not and cannot protect themselves --the humans. None of us is bigger than that. And we will not let our fears, our self-absorption prevent us from seeing it through. Not anymore.”

You frowned. “No. Of course not. Gadreel … please, just talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Castiel, move Y/N to the other side of the cell. And keep your head down.”

Cas moved to you and grabbed your arm. 

“Gadreel. Please. What are you doing?” you said. 

Hannah rushed to Gadreel’s cell and Cas put all his might into forcing you to the other side of the cell. 

“When you think of me, little one,” Gadreel said, “perhaps one day you’ll remember what I meant to you. Perhaps one day you’ll mourn me the way I have mourned you. Run, sister.”

You watched in panic as Hannah ran back past the front of your cell. Cas pushed you into the wall and covered you with his body just as an explosion shook the jail.

He didn’t let you up until the dust had settled. 

You pushed past him when you saw Gadreel’s limp body through the enormous hole in the wall between your cells. 

Your heart dropped and nausea clawed its way up your throat. 

“Do you believe him now?” Cas said to Hannah. 

You were numb but you managed to run to Gadreel’s side and collapse to your knees beside his body.

“No, no, no,” you chanted as you dragged his upper body into your lap. 

You wrapped your arms around his torso and pressed your lips to his temple. You couldn’t understand how he already felt so cold. 

“Please,” you sobbed. You shook you head in denial and began rocking. “Please come back, Gadreel. I’ll try harder to remember, I promise. I’ll go back to being an angel. I’ll do whatever you want. Please. Just come back to me.”

You screamed and wailed every time Cas tried to drag you away from Gadreel’s body. He had to pull you off the ground completely and carry you away in the end. 

You collapsed against him in a fit of sobs half-way down a hall in the middle of heaven. In the end, it was a stern pep-talk from Hannah about being in the enemy’s territory that forced you to get your shit together. 

The tablet ended up being inside Metatron’s type-writer, but by the time you broke it, it was already too late. Metatron reappeared, and the moment he did you charged him with Ingrid’s angel blade. He clicked his fingers, too weak to fight you, and you were in the middle of some warehouse far away. 

And Dean was dying. 

The angel blade fell from your fingertips and crashed to the floor. Sam turned his head from where he crouched near Dean. His eyes locked on you but you couldn’t tear yours from Dean. 

You didn’t run to him like you ran to Gadreel. You hoped that if you walked slow enough, you’d wake up and none of this would be happening. But when you collapsed next to him and touched him, he was warm. 

He was warm and he was dying.

Blood bloomed from his chest. Soaking the rag Dean had pressed against it. 

Your mouth hung open and your eyes welled up. You were in shock, and terror was slowly rising. 

“Baby,” Dean croaked. He managed to lift a hand and press it against your cheek. Blood smeared against your face and let out a sob. 

“No,” you cried. “No. I won’t let you. Dean.”

“Shh, baby.” Dean swallowed and winced as he adjusted his position. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Shut up. Just – just shut up. It’s not okay. You’re not gonna do this to us.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You shook your head. “Shut up. Just save your energy, all right? We'll stop the bleeding. We'll -- we'll get you a doctor or -- or I'll find a spell. You're gonna be fine.”

You grabbed the hand he had against your cheek and pressed your lips to the inside of his wrist. 

“Listen to me. It's better this way.”

“What?!” Sam said as you let out another sob.

“The Mark,” Dean gasped out. “It's making me into something I don't want to be.” He looked at you. His eyes were glassy with tears. “I love you, baby. But this thing, it’s making me …” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t bring himself to say that any part of him hated you.

“Don't worry about the Mark,” Sam said. “We'll figure out the Mark later. Just hold on, okay? Get you some help.”

Sam pulled one of Dean’s arms over his shoulders and hoisted him to his feet. You took his other side and Helped Dean hold the rag to his wound. 

Dean moaned in agony as the two of you tried to move him to the warehouse exit. 

“What happened with you being okay with this?” Dean grunted.

“I lied,” you said. 

“Ain't that a bitch?”

The further the three of you walked, the harder time Dean had staying on his feet. 

“Hold up. Hold up.” 

Sam leant Dean against a piece of equipment. Fresh blood covered the elder Winchester’s mouth. He could barely breath. You bottom lip quivered as you watched him. 

“I got to say something to you two,” Dean said. 

Sam held his brother upright. “What?”

Dean lifted a hand to rest on Sam’s shoulder. “I'm proud of us.” Sam’s eyes welled up as he stared at his brother. Dean looked to you and lifted his other hand to cup the back of your head and pull you in. “And I’m so proud of you.” He pressed his lips to your forehead, and that was the last thing Dean did before he died in your arms. 

****

Crowley sighed when he walked into Dean’s room and found you curled up against the Winchester’s body. You were out cold. Your face was pale. Your eyes puffy. And you clung to Dean like he was the last human on Earth. 

He walked further into the room and took a seat at the desk.

“Your brother, bless his soul, is summoning me as I speak,” Crowley said, keeping his voice low so as not to wake you. “Make a deal, bring you back. It's exactly what I was talking about, isn't it? It's all become so ... expected.” He chewed on his lip for a moment. “You have to believe me. When I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain, I didn't know this was going to happen. Not really. I mean, I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied. I never lied, Dean. That's important. It's fundamental. But ... there is one story about Cain that I might have ... forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than become the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So, he took his own life with the Blade. He died. Except, as rumour has it, the Mark never quite let go.” Crowley reached into his coat and pulled out the First Blade. “You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? It wasn't until you summoned me ... no, it wasn't truly until you left that cheeseburger uneaten ... that I began to let myself believe. Maybe miracles do come true.”

He stood and approached the bed. You shifted, squeezed Dean tighter. Crowley placed the Blade in Dean’s hand and laid them both over your shoulder. 

Dean was a Winchester. Crowley knew the first thing he would want when he woke up was you.

“Listen to me, Dean Winchester, what you're feeling right now -- it's not death. It's life -- a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open, and they were the blackest that Crowley had ever seen.


	50. Black Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is gone, what's worse is he'd taken you with him and denied Sam access to you. The cherry on top of the cake is, you've actually agreed to it.

Dean was long gone, and he’d taken you with him. Losing his brother had been one thing, but Sam was barely surviving losing you. 

The moment he’d found out Dean – supposed-to-be-dead Dean – had run off and taken you with him, Sam fell apart at the seams. He hunted his brother like an animal. Cutting down everything in his way, human or otherwise. 

Nothing was as important to him as finding you. 

You were all he had left – the only thing he ever wanted out of life was to keep you. 

And now you were gone without a trace. No leads. Nothing. All that had been left was a note from Dean that said: SAMMY LET HER GO.

The note chilled him to his bones. 

The only thing that helped him sleep at night, was the hope that you were safe. That Dean wasn’t so far gone he’d hurt you.

Then one day, he found a lead, and suddenly that’s all he could focus on. He latched onto it like a dog and didn’t let go. Even when Cas was too sick to help. Even when his injured shoulder was in too much pain to bear. He latched on to this one lead and didn’t let go. 

Because he knew it would lead to you. Somehow, somewhere, the case of a missing dead man who murdered his family was Sam’s ticket back to you.

****

While Sam was losing sleep over not having you by his side, safe and sound. You were by Dean’s side, safe and sound. Or, at least, in the bar amongst patrons who were currently booing him as he sang ‘I’m too sexy’ on the karaoke machine.

He gave you a flirtatious wink and smile as you crossed in front of the stage on your way back to Crowley’s table. You couldn’t help but smile back. 

Crowley had a sour look on his face as he glanced at a drunken Dean up on stage.

You ran your hand along the back of his shoulders as you passed behind him and sank down into your seat.

“Someone’s not happy with their new toy,” you said as you kicked your feet up on the low table and watched Dean. “What did you think would happen when he became a demon?”

“I didn’t think he’d be singing karaoke and screwing my daughter in my bed.” You chuckled. “I didn’t think the daughter in question would change so much, either.”

You looked over to find him already studying you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Crowley scoffed. “Please. It’s been weeks since Dean uncuffed you. Not once have you tried to run off or make contact with Sam. In fact, you don’t seem to care about him at all.”

“I do,” you snapped. 

Crowley put his hands up in defence. “Fine. You do. And yet, you’ve left him all alone. In the dark. He’s probably worried sick about you.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Crowley said as he turned to you. “The old Y/N – my Y/N – would never have said that. She would have dragged Dean back to Sam the moment she was free. You’re not you. I hate to say it, but I think you actually need moose to be a good person. What’s worse, I preferred you being one of the good guys.”

You rolled your eyes, dropped your feet from the table and signalled for one of the waitresses. “What the hell is your point, Crowley.”

“My point is, I think there’s a connection between you and the plaid-boys. One that we haven’t discovered yet.”

“Yeah? And how do you figure that?” you said as you took the drink the waitress handed you.

“You were a bastard of a teenager,” Crowley said. “Assault charges. Vandalising. Armed robbery.”

“That was one time.”

“Then, you come to your senses and let your rat of a mother dump you in an institute. Then, Sammy rides in on his white horse with Dean snapping at his heels. Suddenly, you go from a criminal brat to a sweet, broken young girl whose morals – whilst twisted beyond recognition – actually exist.”

You kicked your feet back up and took a swig of your drink. “People change. So what?”

“Sure. But then Dean gets the Mark. It loathes you. All of a sudden, Dean’s a moral-less, drunken, karaoke singing demon, you’re torn away from Sam for weeks. And, wouldn’t you know it, you’re back to being a criminal brat and the Mark loves you. If there ain’t a connection there, shoot me.”

“Wow,” you chuckled. “Look at you going all beautiful mind. Connecting the dots and shit.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I think you’re a conduit.”

You raised your brows and gave him a bemused look. “A conduit? You come up with that on your own?”

“Would you shut up and listen for once? Yes. A bloody conduit.”

You shook your head and turned your attention back to Dean. “A conduit for what?”

“Good and evil. So to speak.”

“Oh, my God. Crow –”

“It makes sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you said as you dropped your feet back to the floor and turned to him. 

“It does,” he insisted. “When you spend a lot of time with someone you love, you take on their true qualities. You bring out who they really are. That’s why Cain jumped off the Death Star and Abaddon and Lucifer stuck with Darth Vader.”

“Star Wars references aren’t making this more believable, Crowley.”

“Just think. Dean and Sam are almost polar opposites. You took on both their traits which is why you were constantly at odds with yourself and your moral ambiguity. The Mark hated you because you were a threat. You were a threat because it could sense you were more than human, and you had moose’s stubborn, I-gotta-save-Dean attitude. But now Sam’s not here. Now, it’s just you and good ol’ demon-Dean. And guess who you’re acting like?”

Your jaw ticked as you clenched your teeth together. You leaned closer to Crowley. “You know what I think?” you growled. “I think your plan backfired. I think you’re having a pity party because things aren’t going the way you want them to. I think you’re projecting.”

You stood front the table, knocking your chair back. Dean eyed you as you stormed out of the bar. 

****

You threw your head back in ecstasy. Your thighs tightened around Dean’s hips as you rode him in your motel bed. He sat up and wrapped his arms around you with a moan. Pressed kisses across your chest as you both came down from your climaxes. 

He rolled the two of you back down to the bed so he was on top. He nuzzled into you and ran his hand up and down your thigh as you brought it up against his side. 

“We gotta dump Crowley,” you said.

Dean looked at you with a smile. “’Cause that’s the kind of conversation a good orgasm always leads to.”

“I mean it, Dean. He’s been saying all this crap about how I don’t have my own personality or – or don’t think for myself … I don’t know. Some crap like that. It’s pissing me off.”

He grinned as he pressed his lips to yours in a hot kiss. “You sure as hell got something. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

You pressed your hands to his chest to stop him leaning down for another kiss. “He keeps making me feel guilty about Sam.”

The smile fell from Dean’s face and his grip tightened on your thigh. “I thought we were past this.”

“We are. I’m – I’m over him. Over … that part of our life. But, Dean –”

He had a tight grip on your hair then. The kind of tight that didn’t come with sexy foreplay. His face was hard. His eyes turned black. He never raised his voice, though. That, of everything, reminded you the most of your father. 

Dean was calm in his fury. In his sudden obsession for control. In that moment, he was your father.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” Dean said. “You belong to me. Little Sammy had his fun for a while but he’s not in the picture anymore. Understand? He doesn’t get to have you.”

But if you’d learnt anything in the years you’d been with the brothers, it was how to not fear your father. How to take back the power he took from you.

You bucked your hips and rolled Dean to his back. You fist landed hard across his face. Split open his lip – a wound that closed up in seconds. 

You pinned his wrists to the bed and he smiled up at you. “I don’t belong to anyone,” you growled. “And if you ever speak to me like that again – try to control me like that again – I swear to God, I’ll rip out your fucking heart.”

He pulled his wrists free and you fell against him as he twisted your arms up behind your back. 

“And Crowley says you have no personality,” he said. 

He kissed you then, and you bit into his lip until you tasted blood.

****

Sam never could have guessed what his lead would send him too. Surveillance footage of you and Dean.

More precisely, footage of you brutally killing a demon – Sam’s lead – and Dean reading porn. The real kicker was when Sam realised Dean himself was a demon. 

He still couldn’t figure you out, though. The Y/N Sam knew would never allow Dean to be possessed by a demon. Or at least, you wouldn’t be shopping for porn with said demon. And you were aggressive, too. More so than usual. 

You’d used Dean as bait and hunted that demon down in a gas-stop. And the way you killed him … even the cop who’d shown it to Sam said he couldn’t figure out if you were a hero or a psychopath. 

Sam had never driven to a crime scene so fast in his life. Not that he got much from the witness who happened to be the attendant. 

“So some woman comes in, kills another guy in your store on your watch, and you just -- you what? Just keep on keepin' on?” Sam said as the kid shrugged in answer for the umpteenth time.

“You mean when hot chick was stabbing the other guy to death 10 feet in front of me, and I was having a total code-brown moment in my favorite freakin' pants because I thought I was next, did I conduct a field interview?... No.”

Sam shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. He felt like he’d just missed you. Like you were just out of his reach. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t track you down. 

There was a part of him that wondered if he’d even like what he found. You obviously weren’t being held against your will. So why hadn’t you contacted Sam? Why hadn’t you tried to leave him some kind of message?

Most importantly, why were you hanging around a demon-possessed Dean?

The attendant held up a finger and pulled a mobile from behind the counter. “Oh, hey. Uh, can you do me a solid? Found this wedged under the T.P. I think it's the dead guy's phone, and, uh, if you're heading back to the station ...”

Sam took the phone and left. On it, he found a text message that led the demon straight to you and Dean in the gas station. He shouldn’t have been surprised to find Crowley at the other end of it.

“You're dead,” Crowley said when he answered Sam’s call.

“Nope. Just using a dead man's phone,” Sam said.

“Moose. Took you long enough. Your brother and I were beginning to wonder if you'd hit another dog. You know? Kept it all hush hush from Y/N, though. So, don’t fret if you’ve got another Amelia in your motel room.”

“My brother is dead, Crowley,” Sam growled. “I know you have some freaking demon parading around in his meatsuit, and trust me, you are gonna pay for that. But whatever the hell you’ve done to my wife … that’s what’s gonna make you wish you never met her.”

Crowley chuckled. “Moose. Moose. I'm afraid you haven't allowed yourself to dream quite big enough here. Your brother is very much alive, courtesy of the mark. And the only demonized soul inside of Dean is his and his alone. Wee bit more twisted, a little more mangled beyond human recognition, but, I can assure you, all his. There, now. Feel better?”

Sam scoffed. “And the, uh, Abaddon supporters you've been sending to kill my brother, how does Dean feel about that double-cross?”

“If that's what you think is happening, then you're more out of your depths than I thought.”

“And my wife?” Sam forced out through clenched teeth. “What the hell did you do to her?”

Crowley sighed. “Nothing. I’m afraid, she’s suffered a nasty side-effect of your brother’s condition. Believe me, I’m no more happy about it than you are. I’d give her back to you to fix if I didn’t think Dean would kill her just to keep you from having her.”

Sam tried to swallow down his fear, but it seeped into his words as he said, “Dean would never hurt her. He loves her too much.”

“Oh, indeed he does, moose. But now, he loves the idea of keeping her for himself more than keeping her alive. It would appear he’s done sharing her. Good luck with that. Really.”

Sam shook his head in denial and combed his fingers through his hair. “I don't know how you did this, what kind of ... black-magic stunt you pulled, but hear me --I will save them both or die trying.”

“You know what tickles me about all this?” Crowley said. “It's what's really eating you up. You don't care that he's a demon. Heck, you've been a demon. We've all been demons. No, it's that Y/N’s with me. It’s that she chose me. You can deal with losing Dean. But you can’t lose Y/N. I wonder how dear mommy and daddy Winchester would feel, knowing a woman has come between their boys?”

Sam’s lip curled up in a snarl. “I am going to find you, I am going to save my wife, and then I'm going to kill you dead.”

“Well, that's the operative phrase, isn't it? ‘Find you’. good luck with that.”

Sam should have been concerned that Crowley had let him trace the call. But he was more worried by the realisation he’d only said he’d save you.

****

Dean was leaning back against the bar, beer in hand, watching you play pool like you were the prey he’d been hunting all morning. And that wasn’t far from the truth.

Whatever Crowley had said to you the day before had shaken something loose in you. A desire to see Sammy once more. Dean wasn’t having it. He needed you to go back to what you were. He needed you to go back to being his.

And when Crowley admitted to sending all those demons after Dean, that was just the cherry on top of the cake. Dean was finally on board with your plan of dumping the king of hell. He was stirring up far more trouble than he was worth.

“I did it to keep you sharp,” Crowley said as he eyed Dean. He didn’t like the way the Winchester looked at you.

“Really?” Dean said as his eyes followed you round the pool table and he took a swig of his beer. 

“If it wasn't for me throwing demon chum your way, what do you think would've happened? The mark needs to be sated. Otherwise –”

“Otherwise, I turn into a demon. Yeah, yeah. I sort of got that six weeks ago.”

Crowley shrugged and spun his glass on the bar top. “Just trying to help.”

“You lied.”

“Who do you think you're talking to here? Does the tin man have a sheet-metal willy? Of course I lied.” Dean pushed off the bar in aggravation, ready to hustle you out of the bar for good. “Hey. Sit down. Sit.” Dean just stared at him and he sighed. “I needed to keep you sharp for our future, about which we need to talk.”

Dean scoffed. “Our future?”

“Our professional future. How to put this? If I have to spend one more night in this fetid petri dish of broken dreams and B.O., I will cut off my own face.”

Dean shook his head and leaned back against the bar. “I don't know what you're talking about. 'Cause I'm good. Hell, I'm great.”

“Really? How many suicide wings can you eat? How many one-hit wonders can you karaoke to death?”

“Okay, see, the deal was we howl at the moon,” Dean growled. “No time stamp, no expiration date.”

“We've howled,” Crowley said. “We've bayed. We've done extraordinary things to triplets, all of which have been massively entertaining. I will treasure our Flickr albums forever. But now it's time for us to accept what we are and go back to work.”

Dean shook his head once more. “No. See, that’s what you’re not getting – the only future I have is over there racking up balls on the pool table.”

Crowley sighed. “Ah, yes, your hellion wife. How could I forget her? I’m not telling you to leave her behind.”

“Really? ‘Cause by the sounds of it, you seem pretty intent on sending her back to my little brother. You wouldn’t do that to your business partner, would you?”

Crowley gave him a tight smile. “Of course not.”

Dean leaned in close. His face hard. “Good. ‘Cause if Sam ever lays a finger on Y/N, I’ll cut his hands off. Then I’ll come after you.”

Crowley’s jaw ticked in irritation. The last demon who threatened him had been incinerated, and now he was letting a Winchester get away with it. 

Just as Dean pushed off the bar once more, Crowley turned and said, “Did I forget to mention I spoke to moose earlier?”

Dean froze. “What?”

“Yes. Uh, apparently, he's been tracking us for some time now. He got my text from the cell of that demon that you stabbed in blah, blah, blah. It was --words were spoken -- emotions. I realize, in retrospect, perhaps too many words, too many emotions.”

“He traced the call.”

Crowley smiled. “My bad. I guess he'll be here by morning -- the latest.”

“You sold me out,” Dean growled. “Well, that's just lovely.”

“I don't know what's going on with you,” Crowley said, his voice cold with rage. “I truly don't. But I've had just about enough of it. Sold you out? Try ‘doing you a favour’. Everything I've done for you for the past six months -- the mark, the First Blade, midwifing you back to life, offering you a seat by my side -- has been a favour, a gift, whether you see it or you don't. And all you’ve done to repay me is piss away my money and turn my daughter into some kind of … demon. Take the night. Decide. You know where to find me.”

****

Dean was still hammered when he collapsed into bed after a night of bad karaoke and knocking out the security guard.

You walked over to his bed with a glass of water and held it out to him. “Drink, tough guy.”

He pushed the glass away and sat up against the headboard. “Nah, I'm good.”

“Your funeral.” You sat the glass down on the side table. Dean stared at you. “What?”

He reached out and played his fingers along yours. “Let's go somewhere, you and me.”

You smiled. “We are somewhere.”

“No. Somewhere else.”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. “Crowley told me Sam is coming.”

Dean pulled his fingers from yours. “You don’t belong to him.”

“I don’t belong to either of you.” He gave you a hard look and you sighed. “Look, I think Crowley was right. I’m different to what I was. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent so long away from Sam.”

“You really think I’m gonna just let you run off with my brother?” Dean growled. 

“No. But I need to know, Dean. I need to know for sure if Crowley is right.”

He contemplated you for a moment. “And if he is?”

You swallowed and glanced around the room a moment before looking back at Dean. “Then we leave Sam behind for good. Move countries if we have to.”

He gave you a disbelieving look. “Really? You’d just up and leave Sammy like that? You really think if you laid eyes on his pathetic, lost, puppy dog face tomorrow you could just leave him for me?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to be the woman I was, Dean. The woman who couldn’t go a week without contemplating suicide. The woman who had all her weapons confiscated because she couldn’t be trusted not to hurt herself. The woman who was a miserable mess if she wasn’t doped up on pills. I’m not that woman anymore. I don’t ever want to go back to that.”

Dean nodded once. “Fine. We’ll wait for him.”

“I wasn’t asking permission.”

****

Sam grunted as he was dropped down into a chair. The bag over his head was scratchy and hard to breath in. And the last thing he remembered was his car stopping on the side of the road, and a man knocking him out. 

He felt zipties tighten around his legs, then the bag was ripped off and he looked up at said man. 

“You good, partner?” he said. He gestured to the arm Sam had in a sling. “How's that chicken wing?”

“Who are you?” Sam growled. 

“First time I broke my arm,” the man said as he turned to rummage through a gym bag, “my older brother, Davey, had me riding on the handles of his three-speed. Decided to pop us a wheelie, look real fancy for all the little pretties outside the DQ. Well, we were looking mighty good for a little bit.” He looked at Sam. “And then, ‘whoop’ ass end over teakettle, boy. Hurt like a son of a bitch.” He turned back and strode towards Sam. “You're Sam Winchester. I think we both can agree on that. And your older brother, Dean, well... He and I, we go way back.”

Sam frowned. “You're a hunter?”

The man smiled. “Sure. Yeah, we can go with that. Hunting your brother counts, right?”

“I wouldn't do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Trust me,” Sam said. “Look, buddy, I-I don't know who you are, all right? I don't what you want or what my brother did, but if you got any sense, I suggest you turn tail and run back to that army recruiting ad that spit you out in the first place. He's a monster.”

“Well, he was. Yeah, he was ... many, many moons ago. But now he's prey.” The man leaned forward until Sam could smell the tobacco on his breath. “And I'm the monster now.”

****

You were in the shower when Dean got the call from Sam’s mobile.

“I’m thinking of just leaving you an open tab tomorrow. You can knock yourself out,” Dean said when he answered. 

The voice that replied was most definitely not Sam’s voice. “Well, hell, I just may take you up on that.”

“And who is this?”

“Me? Well, I'm karma, brother.”

“On my brother's phone?”

“On your brother's phone,” the man said.

Dean dragged his bottom lip through his teeth and looked towards the open door of the bathroom. He could see the outline of your body in the fogged-up mirror. “Is he dead?”

“No. Not yet. And as long as you show up where I tell you to show up, your brother will be just fine.”

“And how do I know he's still alive?”

The was a pause, muttering, and then Sam’s grunt sounded over the line after a meaty smack.

“Proof of life,” the man said. Sam called out Dean’s name. “Got a pen?”

“No, you listen to me,” Dean said, his voice calm, “There's no trade. There's no meet-up. There's no nothing -- except the 100% guarantee that, somewhere down the road, I will find you, and I will kill you. And trust me, man. When my wife finds out what you’ve done, you’ll be begging for it.”

“Well, that'll be a cold comfort to your dead brother.”

“I told him to let us go,” Dean said as the shower shut off. “So whatever jam he's in now, that is his problem.”

“Yeah, well, I'll be sure to pass that on to him as I'm slitting his throat.”

“Yeah, you do that, 'cause he knows me. And he knows damn sure that if I am one thing, I am a man of my word.”

Dean hung up then, and smiled at you when you left the bathroom wrapped up in just a towel.


	51. Reichenbach Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finally tracks you and Dean down, but Dean isn't so willing to let you go with his little brother.

Sam was still in the chair with the mystery man droning on about how Dean killed his dad. His body was stiff and ached from being in the one position for so long. 

“And that was the night that Dean Winchester murdered my father,” the man said. “And that's ... that's why he's gonna die.”

Sam tried his best not to be insensitive. Normally, he would have felt more sympathy for the man’s cause, but the longer Sam listened to the sob story – the longer he was tied up – the longer he spent away from you.

He’d spent too long chasing dead leads, and now that he’d finally found a real one, Dean’s past was coming back to haunt him. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

The man smiled. “I'm not looking for your sympathy, Sammy. I'm looking for your brother. So, why don't you tell me where Dean-o is, and then I'll let you go.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “That's not gonna happen.”

The man leant over him. “Really? Now, you know your brother gave me the, uh, green light to put one between your eyes, right?”

Sam’s jaw ticked in fear because if Dean was willing to give his own brother up for dead, what the hell was he willing to do to you?

“Dean ... Dean isn't Dean right now,” Sam said. “Now, look, I don't know who you are –”

“Name's Cole,” the man said. “Listen, Sam ... every night ... since I was 13 years old ... every night, I close my eyes and all I can see is your brother and all that blood ... and my daddy.”

“Look,” Sam growled, “I’m sorry about you dad. Whatever happened … Dean had a reason. But if you think I’m gonna send you after him? You’re dead wrong.”

Cole shook his head in confusion. “Now ... I know Dean's family and all, but he gave you up. And you have no reason to protect him -- none. So, help me. Please.”

“It’s not him I’m protecting,” Sam said. 

Cole chuckled. “Really? Then enlighten me.”

“If you’ve really been tracking us this long, then you’ve probably seen a woman with us.”

Cole straightened and smiled. “I might have seen a pretty little thing beat down on a fella in that security footage. But don’t worry, Sammy. I’m not after your brother’s girlfriend. Just your brother.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. See, when you go after one of us. You go after her too. You’ve seen what she’s capable of. If you try to take Dean down, she’ll make you wish you never walked down those stairs when you were 13.”

The smile fell from Cole’s face, but there was a light in his eyes that said he didn’t quite understand how true Sam’s words were. He leant over the Winchester once more.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to take her out too.”

Cole’s head snapped back, his nose dripped with blood. Sam’s head rang from the headbutt but it was a minor discomfort compared to the rage that boiled inside him. 

“You ever lay a hand on my wife,” Sam snarled, “and I’ll hunt you down, and gut you like a pig.” 

That wasn’t a threat that Cole enjoyed hearing, but by the time he pulled out a hammer – ready to put it to Sam’s knee – he received a phone call and left the barn, leaving the keys to Sam’s cuffs behind.

****

Dean had you up against the side of the Impala outside a strip club. You’d been dancing for him when Dean decided a bodyguard had been staring at you too long and busted him up. 

His mouth was pressed against yours and his hands groped at your ass and breasts. He pulled open the front of your shorts and you let your head fall back with a smile when his fingers played with your clit.

He pressed his lips to your jaw and hiked one of your thighs up against his waist. 

“You want me to fuck you right here?” he growled. “For everyone to see?”

“Please don’t.”

The smile fell from your face and Dean turned his head at the sound of Crowley’s voice. You sighed as you dropped your leg and Dean pulled his hand out of your shorts. 

“You said you got rid of him,” you mumbled.

“I thought I did,” Dean said as he slung an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into him.

“I’d rather you didn’t defile my daughter in public,” Crowley said. 

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want, Crowley?”

“A chat. We need to talk about your … anger-management issues. Both of you.”

****

Dean gestured to the bartender as you perched on his lap and Crowley took a seat beside him.

“Two shots here. He'll have something fancy, with your tiniest umbrella.”

“So ...” Crowley started, “how you been feeling? On edge? Pent-up? Unfulfilled?”

You snorted. “You sound like a Viagra commercial. You know that, right?”

Dean smiled as he slid his hand down to your ass. You slipped an arm around his neck and ran your fingers through his hair. 

“This isn't about ... Little Dean. It's about the Mark. It changed you.”

Dean’s eyes flashed black. “I've noticed.”

Crowley glanced at you. “It’s changed you too.” You rolled your eyes. “And I know that you want to keep the party going. You want to have fun, fun, fun till daddy takes the black eyes away. The fact is, Dean ... you need to kill now. Not want to, not choose to --need to.”

Dean’s eyes flashed back to normal as the bartender set the drinks down.

“Face it, darling,” Crowley continued. “You're an addict. Death is your drug. And you're gonna spend the rest of your life chasing that dragon.”

“So?”

“So ... I'm here to facilitate.”

You laughed. “You want him to kill for you.”

Crowley gave you a sharp look. “I want him to kill for us.” He looked back at Dean. “Look ...you're going to snap eventually. The anger, the bloodlust is gonna build up in you until you can't take it anymore, and then ... So, the question is, do you want to spike someone who has it coming … or do you want to kill your wife?”

Dean stiffened and his hand tightened over your flesh. “I would never –”

“The Mark doesn’t care what you would or wouldn’t do. Sure, it likes her now, but when it’s hungry and she’s the only bleeding thing around for miles …”

Dean’s jaw ticked. “Who do you have in mind?”

Crowley smiled and pulled out a picture of a busty blonde. “Mindy Morris. Caring mother ... loving wife ... cheating trollop. After her husband, Lester, discovered Mindy's liaison amoureuse, heated words were exchanged. In the end, Mindy wanted a divorce ... and 50% of everything. But Lester –”

“Lester would rather give up his soul than half his junk,” you said, not in the least surprised.

“We live in a very materialistic world. Mindy's gonna die one way or the other. Why not take the job -- feed the beast?”

“Fine,” Dean said. “One-time deal.”

****

Killing Mindy wasn’t a problem for you, but something about the situation was a blip on Dean’s moral radar. What was left of it anyway. 

His mind was made up when Lester pulled up to the house to watch the murder go down. You were more than happy to follow Dean’s lead. 

Lester was outraged at first when Dean slid into the passenger seat of his car. Then he flashed his black eyes and all of a sudden, the creep was on board.

“What the hell are you doing here, man?” Dean said.

You leaned in the driver’s side window, resting your forearms on the windowsill. Lester had yet to notice you, his attention fixed on Dean.

“Well, my contact ...” Lester said. “Yeah, he, uh -- he told me that, uh, this was happening, so I just wanted to come down and make sure it gets done right.”

You laughed and Lester jumped, his head swivelled around to look at you. “Who are you?”

“'Cause you're the expert, huh?” you said. “Listen -- and this is murder 101 -- when you hire someone to kill your wife, you don't want to be around when the hit goes down. It's called an alibi.”

He gave you a withering look, and something told you he didn’t carry much respect for women in general. “Yeah, I know what an alibi is. I watch ‘Franklin & Bash’.”

You raised your brows and gave Dean a look of disbelief. 

“Super,” Dean said, his voice dry. “Listen, you sold your soul for this crap, so –”

“It's not crap. It's my life. And she flushed it down the toilet.”

“Les ... I'm gonna say something to you. I need you to really listen to me. You're a loser. Your lady in there -- she's a North Dakota 8. You're a 4 1/2, Max. Now, I don't blame her for stepping out –” 

“Especially if she found you were messing around first,” you finished. 

Lester gave the two of you an incredulous look. “No. Oh, no. I-I wasn't ...” Dean gave him a knowing smile. “Uh -- how do you know?”

“Well, you just got that, uh, pervy, ‘I'd do anything to nail my secretary’ look,” Dean said.

Lester scoffed. “Oh. No. T-That -- it's different when guys do it.”

Your blood boiled at those words. You gave Dean a look and his eyes lit up at the murder in your face. 

“Really?” Dean said.

“Yeah,” Lester said. “It's called ‘science’.”

“Oh.”

“Men aren't built for monogamy ... because of evolution. We're -- we're -- we're programmed, you know, to --to spread our seed.”

Dean smiled and looked at you. “What do you think of that, baby?”

You reached through the window, grabbed the front of Lester’s shirt, and yanked down as hard as you could.

His face collided with the steering wheel, shattering his nose. 

He screamed in agony. “You fucking whore!” 

Dean’s fist broke his cheekbone. “That’s my wife you’re talking to,” he growled. “I gotta say, I got no problems staying faithful to her. Like I said – you’re a loser, with a capital ‘L’, rhymes with ‘you suck’.”

“Yeah, well, you're a punk-ass demon,” Lester sobbed as he cradled his face. “And you work for me now. So get in there and do your job, you freak!”

Dean’s glare turned icy and you shifted on your feet in anticipation. 

“And what are you gonna do?” Dean said. “You gonna watch, huh? Is that what you like to do, Lester? Watch? Well, watch this.”

He pulled the First Blade from its sheath and buried it, hilt deep, in Lester’s chest.

****

You and Dean met up with Crowley in the same bar he’d given you the job in. Only this time, sunlight lit the place up and it was vacant except for Crowley and two of his demons. 

You were leaning against a table and Crowley spoke with Dean in front of you. The king was none too happy to find out Lester was the one with a hole in his chest. 

“The client? You killed the client?” Crowley said.

“Does it matter?” Dean said. “He was a douche. Now he's a dead douche.”

Crowley gave him an incredulous look. “Of course it matters! The deal was one dead wife for one soul. The wife's not dead, I don't get the soul. It's math.”

Dean sighed and turned to leave. “Well ... there you go.”

“Hey! Don't turn your back on me!”

Dean turned back, his eyes cold with malice. You straightened from the table as Dean shoved Crowley and sent him sprawling across the floor. 

You pushed Dean back with a scowl. When you turned back to make sure Crowley was okay, you noticed the two demons were smiling. 

“Is something funny?” you growled, your voice as cold as Dean’s eyes had been.

They gave you a confused look. Unsure of your rank. Technically, you didn’t hold sway over them, but you were the King of Hell’s daughter, and you were the only one in the bar capable of holding Dean back. Which means you were more than capable of snapping their necks. 

So, they wiped the smiles from their faces and said, “No, ma’am” as Crowley pushed himself back to his feet.

“What do you think you're doing?” he said as he looked back at Dean.

“Oh, whatever I want,” Dean said.

“Really? Because I think you don't know what you want. Tell me, Dean -- what are you? A demon? If so, why isn't Lester's wife dead? Did you feel sorry for her? So maybe you're human. Except you have those pretty black peepers and you're working alongside me. Why don't you do us all a great big favour and pick a bloody side?!”

Dean moved forward and you shoved him back with one hand. He growled at you but turned most of his fury towards Crowley instead. 

“Or what? Hmm? Go ahead. Make a move. See how it ends. I ain't your friggin' bestie, and I ain't taking orders from you. When I need to kill, I'll call. Until then, stay out of my way.”

“Fine,” Crowley said. “It's over. What can I say? Crazy ones -- well, they're good for a fling, but they're not relationship material.”

“Are you done?”

“We're done. You know what, Dean? It's not me. It's you.”

He went to leave, but the barely concealed hurt in his eyes tugged at something in you. “Crowley –”

“Save it, Y/N,” he said. “Call me when you’re back to being Kitten. Until then, I don’t wanna see you.”

He pushed past you and Dean. His minions followed after. 

Dean took a tight grip on your arm and spun you around to face him. “What the hell was that?” he growled.

You yanked your arm from his grip and snarled, “I could ask you the same thing. I may have wanted to get away from him, but Crowley’s still my father. If you think I’m gonna watch you hurt him, you’re deluded.”

He took a step closer to you, using his height as an intimidation tactic. “You’re treading a thin line, sweetheart.”

You didn’t back down. “Black eyes or not, you don’t scare me, Winchester. Crowley was right, you felt guilty about killing that woman. But I didn’t. Which means, between the two of us, you’re more human. So, don’t think for a second you have any control over me, ‘cause I’m all you’ve got.” A malicious smile curled your lips. “But I’ve still got your little brother to keep me warm at night.”

****

Sam left the motel room he’d been staying in. His escape from Cole had been easy, but he was far too engrossed with his latest lead to think about just how easy it had been. 

“Hello, Bullwinkle. You miss me?”

Sam froze at the sound of Crowley’s voice. His jaw ticked and he turned to level Crowley with a glare. “So much.”

“You're here for dumb and dumber. I'm here to give them to you.”

Sam eyed him. “What?”

“The little prats are bad for business. They’re ... uncontrollable. Must be the Mark. Anyway, they’re your problem now -- again, forever.”

“Then where is she?” Sam growled.

Crowley smiled. “See? You really only want her.” Sam’s nostril’s flared and he pressed his lips together, refusing to acknowledge his slip up. “Fine. But first, there's the small matter of my finder's fee.”

****

Dean was sulking at the piano in the bar when Sam turned up. He kept wondering where everything had gone wrong. When he’d taken you from the bunker, he’d had a vision in his head of what life with you was going to be like. And it had unfolded just like that.

For a while. 

But then Sam kept coming up in your mind, and suddenly Dean lost the upper hand. He lost you. He realised that he didn’t matter to you the way you mattered to him. 

The only way he knew how to fix it was to get rid of Sam for good. But killing his little brother was another thing when putting into practice.

“I told you to let her go, Sam,” he said. Because you were the only one Sam would go through all this trouble for. He loved Dean, sure, but the Winchester’s both knew that you were the most important thing in Sam’s life.

Living without you simply wasn’t an option.

“You know I can’t do that,” Sam said as he gave the bar a visual sweep in search of you.

“She’s in the back,” Dean said. “’M’sure she’ll be out soon.”

Sam nodded once and tried to pull on a façade of calmness, but Dean saw through it. It was taking all of Sam’s willpower not to run straight into the back to find you. 

“Is she okay?”

Dean snorted and downed the shot of whiskey sitting on top of the piano. “Depends on how you define ‘okay’.”

Sam took a step forward. “What did you do to her?” he growled.

“Relax,” Dean said. “I didn’t do anything to her. She’s just … not the Y/N you remember.” 

“What’s that meant to mean?”

Dean shrugged. “I’m not the only one the Mark changed. Your pal Crowley didn’t tell you? By the way, I know he sold me out.”

Dean stood from the piano and pulled out the First Blade. 

Sam held his hands up. “Dean, hold on a second. You don't have to do this. Look, we know how to cure demons. You remember that?”

“Little Latin, lot of blood,” Dean said as he headed past Sam towards the bar. “It rings a bell. Did you ever stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn't have bailed?”

“That was Crowley.”

Dean smiled as he leaned against the bar and faced Sam. “It really wasn't.”

Sam swallowed and shifted on his feet. “It doesn't matter, all right? 'Cause whatever went down, whatever happened, we will fix it.”

“Will we? 'Cause right now, I'm doing all I can not to come over there and rip your throat out ... with my teeth. I'm giving you a chance, Sam. You should take it.”

“I'm gonna have to pass.”

“Well, I'm not walking out that door with you. I'm just not.”

Dean knew the moment you came from out the back. Sam’s eyes moved over his shoulder and his entire demeanour softened. His lips parted, and he looked as though he were seeing an angel for the first time. The good kind of angel. And, hell, Dean knew that wasn’t far from the truth. Sam brows lifted up and he took an involuntary step forward. 

“Sam?” you said. 

Dean could see the goose bumps raise on Sam’s arms. He was lax, like one of those kids lulled into hypnosis by the Pied Piper. Dean wondered if that’s what people saw when he looked at you. If he was that visibly smitten by the mere sight of you. 

A jealous rage boiled in his chest. You weren’t Sam’s anymore. He didn’t have a right to be smitten by you.

You brushed past him and his hand struck out to wrap around your arm in a bruising grip. You gave him a hostile look and tried to pull away, but the more you struggled, the tighter he held you. Until he could feel your bone beneath your flesh. You didn’t make a sound to indicate it, but Dean knew he was hurting you. He wanted to hurt you. Wanted to teach you a lesson. 

He straightened from the bar and leaned over you. “I might be expendable to you, but I’m a very jealous man, and I can snap your arm with one squeeze.” Sam moved closer and Dean’s eyes snapped up. “Take another step and I’ll snap her neck as well.” Sam stopped in his tracks, fear vibrated through his body. You scoffed and Dean’s eyes flashed black. “You were wrong,” he growled at you. “I’m not human, and I’m more than willing to kill you just so Sam can’t have you.”

“Dean,” Sam said, his voice caught between an angry growl and scared appeasement.

Dean looked at him. “So, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna kill me?”

Sam’s jaw ticked, and for a moment, Dean thought that he might actually say yes, but he didn’t.

“Why?” Dean said. “You don't know what I've done. I might have it coming. Wait, is it because I’m your brother so you don’t care what I’ve done? You know? With the puppy-dog eyes?”

“No,” Sam growled. “I’m not going to kill you because Y/N loves you.”

“Oh, ouch,” Dean said as he put a hand over his heart. “Really? No brotherly love?”

“You lost that when you kidnapped my wife.”

Dean clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on your arm. A strangled sound forced its way out your throat. Sam struggled to stay where he was. 

“How do you know I kidnapped her? She could’ve come willingly. You said it yourself – she loves me.”

Sam’s lip curled up in a snarl. “I can still see the handcuff marks on her wrists, Dean.”

Dean smiled. “She’s been outta those for weeks. You should see what she’s done. She’s really grown into the Princess of Hell title. You sure you want her back?”

“I don’t care what she’s done,” Sam growled. “Because she’s my wife, and I’m here to take her home.”

Dean laughed as Sam pulled out a pair of sigil etched handcuffs. “You really think those are gonna work?”

Sam took a deep breath. “There's one way to find out.”

He began moving forward but stopped when a canister of tear gas flew in through the window and rolled across the floor. 

Sam collapsed to the floor coughing. Dean was unaffected by it, but when you coughed and leaned against him, he let go of your arm and wrapped you up gently in his arms before guiding you out. 

Cole was waiting for Sam by the front door and knocked him out cold when he stumbled out.

Dean came out the back door with an arm around you. Cole pulled his gun and aimed it at the older Winchester. Dean gave you a gentle push to the side out of range of the weapon. 

“Wow. It's really you,” Cole said.

Dean shrugged. “We met?”

“Talked on the phone.”

Dean smiled. “Right. Right. You're the guy who's supposed to put a bullet in Sammy's brain. Did you miss?” Dean could feel you level him with a glare, but you let it go. No matter what he did, you had his back when things started getting rough. And this was one of those moments.

“Well, I had a better idea,” Cole said. “I figure if I let your bro escape, he'd go running to you, and all I had to do was just tag along. And now here we are, finally -- Dean Winchester.”

Cole began circling, and Dean circled with him until Cole’s back was to you.

“Great. A groupie.”

“You remember me?”

“Yeah, yeah. You're that guy from that thing,” Dean said with a shake of his head.

Cole’s jaw ticked. “Nyack, New York, June 21, 2003.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “That supposed to ring a bell?”

“It was the night you gutted and murdered a man by the name of Edward Trenton. He was my father.”

Dean shrugged and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Dean laughed. “Well, hey, I'm not saying I didn't slice and dice your old man. I'm just saying that he wasn't the first, and he certainly wasn't the last, and they all just kind of get blended up.”

“I saw you ...” Cole said as he moved closer to Dean, freeing up more ground for you to move in behind him., “that night ... after. You let me live. That was dumb -- real dumb. I spent half my life training for this moment. I've played out this fight a thousand times in my mind. And I know all about you, Dean-o. And you're good. Oh, you're real good. But, you see, I'm better.”

You kicked out the back of Cole’s knee. He crumbled to the ground. He swung his gun arm around to aim at you, but you grabbed his wrist and sent a knee to his elbow. The gun went flying from his hand and stepped back out his range. You could have taken him out then, but you wanted to toy with him.

Dean wasn’t the only one that liked playing with his food. 

The Winchester grinned. “You say that, but my wife is the one you’ve really gotta take down.”

A growl of frustration bubbled up from Cole’s throat. He pulled a knife from its sheath, got back on his feet and leapt at you. You dodged his swipes and laughed when you managed to shove him back a few feet. He looked at you in shock.

Dean crossed his arms, his face smug and filled with desire as he watched you moved. Over the weeks, bloodlust and sexual lust hadn’t become so entwined for the two of you. Half the time you picked fights with people as a form of foreplay. 

Cole charged you again, and again you countered his blows and shoved him back, this time disarming him. The third time he came at you, you had him by the ankle and pulled his gun from its holster before sending a boot to his ass to push him back again.

“You know...” you said as you dropped the clip from the gun and emptied its chamber before throwing it to the ground, “and I'm just spitballing here, but, uh, maybe ... you are not as good as you think you are.”

Cole’s face was hard. His frustration tensed up his body, and you couldn’t help but smile when he dropped down into a martial arts stance. 

Dean chuckled. “Watch out, baby. He knows Kung Fu.”

“I know everything,” Cole growled as he eyed you.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed. “You’ve been so busy checking out Dean, that you didn’t bother to check what I’m capable of.”

He attacked again, and by the time you were done with him, he was winded and on the ground. Dean moved forward and gripped your hips in his hands. You growled into his mouth as he kissed you and pressed into your body. 

He pulled away when Cole began pushing up on his knees. 

“What did you think was gonna happen, huh?” Dean said to him. “You just stroll up here and say ‘my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die’. And I'd just roll over?” He leaned over Cole. “Well, that's just -- it makes me sad.”

Cole slashed out suddenly with a small knife he had hidden in his coat. Dean grunted as the blade slid across his face and reared back as Cole leapt to his feet. He took a shot at Dean, but the Winchester had him by the throat in seconds.

“You have no idea what you walked into here, do you?” Dean growled as the cut on his face healed. “None.”

“What are you?” Cole said.

Dean smiled as his eyes flashed black. “I’m a demon.”

Dean beat Cole. Threw him to the ground. Pounded his face into pulp. Broke more than a few bones. Then, finally, he had him up against a parked car with the Frist Blade to his throat.

“Do it,” Cole said. “You said if you saw me, you would kill me, so do it!”

Dean smiled and pulled the Blade away. “I guess I changed my mind.” He let go of Cole and stepped back the man slumped to the ground. 

Dean turned to you, but you’d been too busy watching Sam climb out of unconsciousness. He was on his feet now, cuffs and a flask of holy water in his hands. 

Dean collapsed to the ground with a shout when Sam poured it over him and slapped the cuffs on.

“Stop! It's over! It's over,” Sam growled when Dean tried and failed to fight. Dean glared at Sam and the younger Winchester looked at you. “Do I need cuffs for you too?” he growled, clearly not happy with the behaviour he’d just seen from you.

You gave him a mischievous and put your hands up to show you weren’t going to fight. 

****

Dean sat in the backseat of the Impala, a scowl on his face as you sprawled out in the front, watching Sam and Crowley talk outside.

“I can’t believe you just let him slam the cuffs on me like that,” Dean growled.

You looked at him and shrugged. “It was payback for threatening to snap my neck.” He rolled his eyes and you smiled as you leant against the back of your seat. “Besides, I wanted to see Sammy again. You think he likes the new me?” 

Dean’s jaw ticked in jealousy and you laughed.

Sam was silent for most of the ride back to the Impala. Even when you poked his thigh with your feet and tried to goad him into conversation – or better yet, a fight – he stayed silent. But eventually, even he couldn’t resist the urge to speak.

“This thing is filthy,” he grumbled as he looked at the trash that littered the dash.

“It's just a car, Sam,” Dean said.

Sam scoffed. “’It's just a ... car’. Wow. You really have gone dark.”

“You have no idea.”

Sam shook his head and you smiled as you watched him hold onto some semblance of calm. “You know what, Dean? I saw what happened back there. You could have killed that guy, and you didn't. You took mercy on him.”

You laughed. “You call that mercy?” Sam fought the urge to glance at you and failed. You pushed yourself up onto your knees and shifted forward until you were crowding him. “Imagine you spend your whole life hunting down the guy that knifed your father. When you finally find him ... he whips you like a dog.” You smiled. “How do you think that feels? That kid's gonna spend his whole life knowing that he had his shot and that he couldn't beat us. That ain't mercy. That's the worst thing we could have done to him.”

Sam looked at your sweet, smiling face and wondered what the hell had happened to his wife. Because it wasn’t you sitting next to him.


	52. Soul Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes through the grueling process of being cured, and Sam starts to think that there's more than the Mark affecting you.

Dean’s face was a mixture of smug and pissed off as he sat strapped to the chair in the bunker dungeon. 

“Really?” he said when Sam walked in with a bag of purified blood.

“For whatever it’s worth, I got your blood type,” Sam said. 

“Sam, I know you think you’re gonna try and fix me, but … did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to be fixed? Just let me go live my life. I won’t bother you. What do you care?”

Sam scoffed. “What do I care? You really think I’m gonna let you just walk out of here with Y/N?”

Dean smiled. “She’s not yours anymore, Sammy. She never will be.”

Sam’s jaw ticked as he pulled out a flask of holy water and splashed it on the floor as he chanted in Latin.

“You think I’m just gonna sit here like Crowley?” Dean growled. “Getting all weepy while you shoot me up? Well, screw that. I don’t want this!”

“Yeah, I pretty much figured that out.”

Dean scoffed. “You don’t even know if this is gonna work, do you? You know, I got a hell of a lot more running through me than just demon juice.”

Sam nodded as he walked back over to the blood bag and filled up a syringe. “Mark of Cain, got it.”

“That’s right.”

Sam took a deep breath as he approached Dean. “Buckle up.”

“Sammy … you know I hate shots.”

“I hate demons.”

Dean’s eyes flashed black as he tried to lunge at Sam. Sam splashed holy water on his face and drove the needle into his arm as Dean growled. 

“Look, we got a whole bunch more of these to go,” Sam said. “You could make it a lot easier on yourself.”

Dean groaned and pulled against his restraints as the blood coursed through his body. 

“Sammy, I’m bored.”

Sam turned at the sound of your voice and Dean lifted his head. You were leaning against the shelves that doubled as doors to the dungeon. When you saw the blood bag, you pouted and pushed off the shelves.

“You started all the fun without me?” you said as you walked into the room. 

“Baby,” Dean rasped. “Untie me.”

You smiled as you walked around him. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

“Y/N,” Sam warned as you trailed your fingers over Dean’s arm and shoulders. 

“Relax, Sam,” you said as you wrapped your arms around Dean from behind. “Dean can’t hurt me any more than you can.” You hummed and traced his jaw with your fingers. “I can hurt him, though.”

Dean smiled up at you. “No, you can’t, baby.”

“Yes, I can,” you said as you straightened and walked around to the front of him. You braced yourself against his thighs and leaned in until your lips brushed against his. “Sammy’s my backup husband.”

He growled as he lunged at you, and you laughed as you pushed back out of reach.

Sam eyed you as you sashayed back to him. 

You slid your hands beneath his shirt and onto the skin of his stomach. “Wanna have some fun while Dean watches?” you said.

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed when you lifted his shirt and planted wet kisses down his stomach. A demonic sound made him open his eyes and look at Dean. 

Dean’s eyes were black and he lunged against his restraints as the most monstrous growls rumbled from his throat. Sam had never heard anything sound like that. 

He grabbed your upper arm and pulled you up. “Stop.”

You pouted and backed away from him. “Well, if you won’t satisfy me, guess I will have to untie Dean.”

Dean seemed to relax at those words. And for a moment, Sam thought you were bluffing. Then he remembered that the only reason you let Dean get caught in the first place, was because you wanted to see him. 

But if Sam wasn’t willing to give you what you wanted, then you had no problem going back to life with demonised Dean. 

You weren’t the Y/N Sam knew anymore, he had to remember that.

“Wait,” he said. “I do want you.”

Your lips curled up again, and he met you in the middle when you started towards him. His hands cupped your face and he meshed his lips to yours with all the desperation he’d been feeling since he walked into Dean’s room and found you gone all those weeks ago. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair and he wasted no time sliding his hands against the back of your thighs and scooping you up. He ignored the sounds coming from Dean and moved until he had you pressed against a wall.

He never would forget the look on your face when he locked the shackles around your wrists and peeled himself from your body. He felt like an asshole manipulating you with sex like that, even if you did do it first. 

You were still his wife. And you weren’t you just then.

You let out a growl of frustration and yanked on the chains. “What the hell, Sam?”

“I don’t know why the Mark is affecting you too,” Sam said. “But I’m gonna get you back to normal, okay?”

You laughed. “Normal? You mean, you want me to go back to being the miserable woman that needs meds to function?”

“I want you to go back to being the woman that I love,” he said. “I want my wife back.”

“Oh, Sammy,” you snarled. “Poor, sweet, Sammy. I am your wife. And you’re gonna learn to love the new me because leaving me isn’t an option I’ll let you live to make.”

He gave you a sad smile because leaving you wasn’t an option he’d let himself live to make either. He cupped your face in his hands again and gave you a patient look. 

“When this is over,” he said, “you’re gonna hate yourself for everything that’s happened these past weeks. I just want you to know that I forgive you. No matter what happened, no matter what you’ve done, I still love you.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. You didn’t have a snappy comeback. He kissed you again because he saw something in you at that moment. 

He saw the woman he loved. 

And so, on it went for hours. Syringe after syringe into Dean’s flesh. The bickering of who was morally superior. If you weren’t chained to the wall, you might have laughed at how little things had really changed.

And then something came to light. Something that tightened your chest and sparked a flame inside of you.

“You know, Sammy,” Dean said. “From where I’m sitting, there ain’t much difference from what I turned into to what you already are.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Sam said as he filled up the next syringe.

“I know what you did when you went looking for her.” You looked up at that, having been in a half-dazed state of exhaustion. “I know how far you went. Crowley told me all about it. So, let me ask you … which one of us is really a monster? Hmm? Starting to come back to you now?”

Sam blew out a breath and his hands tensed around the syringe.

“You were trying to get a twenty on Crowley and Y/N from any demon you could snag. But Crowley didn’t want to be found, and no one showed when you summoned. But you found a way, didn’t you, Sam?” Dean continued. “You would have liked to have gotten there before the deal went down, but you didn’t really care about poor ol’ Lester, did you?”

Sam braced himself against the table. His shoulders tense with everything he was trying to bury. The guilt. The shame. 

Your shackles clinked together as you straightened and watched him.

“Oh, and so you know,” Dean said, “I killed Lester myself. And that wife of his married the tattooed guy.”

Sam slammed his hand down on the table. “I never meant –”

“Who cares what you meant?! That line that we thought was so clear between us and the things that we hunted ain’t so clear, is it? Wow. You might actually be worse than me! I mean, you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and his soul. Nice work.”

Sam marched up to Dean and plunged the needle into his neck. Dean screamed in pain but Sam barely heard it as he tossed the syringe back to the table and leaned over it. 

You rested your head against your arm and watched him. “Guess I’m not the only one that needs forgiving.”

****

Sam leaned back against one of the shelves just outside the dungeon. The time was approaching for Dean’s next shot, and Sam was finding it harder and harder to walk into the room. One of you was hard enough, but having both of you turn into these … people that he didn’t even know. 

And every time he looked at you, he felt like he’d gone right back to seeing Gadreel stare through your eyes. You just … weren’t you anymore. But at the same time, you were. And it might have been easier to deal with if only Dean were himself, but he wasn’t. He was a demon. And Sam was in this alone.

Fighting to bring back the two people he loved the most. 

The only person he could call for help was Cas, but he felt guilty enough already dragging the angel to the bunker in the first place. 

But … he needed him. He needed someone. Someone else that loved you. Someone who could understand the pain Sam was feeling. 

“Hey, are you still coming?” Sam said when Cas answered on the second ring. 

“I’m a few hours away. Is the treatment working?”

“No, not very well,” Sam said. “Look, it—it’s not like it was with Crowley. Dean is in pain. I mean, he’s in bad pain. It’s like he’s barely holding on. Cas … I might be killing him.”

Cas sighed. “It might be.”

“So … what? Should I stop?”

“And do what? He’s not possessed. Exorcism is out of the question. The ritual of purified blood is the only treatment I know.”

Sam’s brow furrowed as he pushed off the shelves. “Cas, did you not hear what I just said? I could be killing my brother.”

“Sam, he’s not your brother. At least, not now. You have to be prepared for –”

“Killing my brother.” Sam blew out a breath and dragged a hand over his face. 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Cas said.

“Yeah, all right. I’ll, uh … I’ll leave the entry unlocked for you. Just … hurry.”

Cas hesitated for a moment. Then, “Sam? How is she?”

Sam pressed his lips together. “The same. Whatever’s happening to Dean with the blood … it’s not affecting her.”

“So, the connection is definitely to the Mark and not Dean being a demon.”

“Yeah.” Sam dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. “It – It just doesn’t make sense, Cas. I mean, she told me Crowley said she was some sort of conduit. But … that doesn’t add up. If what he said is true, she would have been different when she was in the psych ward.”

“I don’t think Crowley’s right,” Cas said. “But I think he’s close.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well … she wasn’t created by God. Which means, whoever did create her put her here for a reason and made sure she couldn’t be killed. Something tells me it’s not to lay the   
world to ruins.”

“Then what?” Sam said.

Cas sighed. “I don’t know, Sam. Maybe … maybe she was put here to learn. Maybe she adapts to stronger personalities because that’s her way of learning.”

“What like – like a computer?”

“Perhaps.”

Sam scoffed. “N-No. My wife isn’t a freaking computer.”

“I’m not saying –”

“Then what are you saying, Castiel?!”

“I don’t know!” There’s silence as the two of them calm down. “I’m sorry,” Cas said. “This is difficult for me too, but I can only theorise about this. No one knows who or – or what she is. No one knows why she’s here. Or – Or how. We might never know.”

Sam let out a shaky breath and braced himself back against the shelves as he closed his eyes in defeat. He didn’t get much time to process anything, however, before he heard you screaming Dean’s name. 

He hung up on Cas and ran into the dungeon. You were lunging against the shackles. Sam was sure you’d dislocate your shoulders if you didn’t stop so, he went straight to the source.

Dean. He was slumped down in the chair. His head hanging and his body slack. 

“Hey! Hey! Dean!” Sam said as he ran to his brother and lifted his face. “Come on! Come back.”

He slapped his cheek a few times, then Dean groaned.

“Come back to me,” Sam said. “You there? Hey! Dean, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled, “if you … consider drowning in your own sweat while your blood boils ‘okay’.”

“You need to stop this, Sam,” you growled, though there was no mistaking the panic in your voice. 

Sam straightened and gave you a guilty look. “Y/N –”

“Now!” You yanked against the shackles once more when you yelled. Only this time, the concrete around the brackets began to give way. 

Sam’s heart jumped in fear because not even a demon was strong enough to pull the shackles out of the wall. 

Dean smiled. “Looks like I’m not the only one the Mark juiced up.”

Sam swallowed and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I can’t stop doing this.”

“Sure you can,” Dean said. “You just stop! There’s no point in trying to bring your brother back now.”

“Oh, I will bring him back,” Sam growled.

“In fact, your, uh … guilt-ridden, weight-of-the-world bro has been M.I.A. for quite some time now. But I’m loving the new model: Lean, mean, Dean.” Sam scoffed and turned to the table behind him. “You notice I tried to get as far away from you as possible? Away from your whining, your complaining. I chose the King of Hell over you!”

 

“Dean,” you snapped. 

“Maybe I was just … tired of babysitting you,” Dean continued. “Or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire since …” Dean laughed. “Forever.”

“Dean, shut up!”

“Or maybe … maybe it was the fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for you. That your very existence sucked the life out of my life! Or that I have to listen to you fuck the only thing I have left in this world!”

“Stop!” you screamed as you gave one last pull at the shackles. The loose bracket pulled free of the concrete, and you were left with only one hand shackled to the wall. The other hung by your side, the shackle still wrapped around it and the chain dragging along the ground. 

Sam stared at you in shock. You studied your own hand in awe. And Dean simply smiled as he watched you. 

“How the hell did you do that?” Sam said.

You shook your head as you looked up at him.

Dean began to say something about the Mark but Sam cut him off. “It’s more than the Mark, Dean. Not even you could have done that. There’s something else going on with you, baby. But we’re gonna work it out, okay?”

“What? You gonna fix her too?” Dean growled.

“Just shut up,” you said. “I am so sick of listening to you two fight each other. The whole time I was with you, Dean, I kept feeling like something was missing. I thought if I could see Sam again, I wouldn’t feel like that anymore. And it worked. But I’m starting to wonder if it was even worth it.”

Dean’s jaw ticked as he averted his eyes. Sam swallowed down his shame and simply grabbed the next syringe. He couldn’t bear to listen to the truth in your words because if he did, he’d have to start wondering what he was even fighting for at this point. 

****

It was half an hour before the last shot when Dean got loose. The more blood Sam had pumped into him, the more human he became until he was able to slip right out of the cuffs and walk out of the Devil’s trap. 

He left you half-chained to the dungeon wall, suddenly conscious of the fact that you were far stronger than him. And far less willing to have Sam killed. 

You screamed and pulled as you heard Dean’s voice bouncing through the halls of the bunker. Taunting Sam. Begging him to come out and play. 

At one point, the lights switched off and a door slammed shut ten minutes later.

Sam was on the other side of the bunker, outside the electrical room with Dean trapped inside.

“That’s your big move?” Dean growled from the other side of the door, having been locked in.

“Listen to me, Dean!” Sam said. “We were getting close, okay? I know you’re still in there somewhere. Just let me finish the treatments.” Silence from the other side. Sam shuffled closer to the door. “Dean?”

The door splintered when something hit it from the other side. Sam jumped back and watched as the wood began breaking and caving out towards him. He soon realised that Dean was using a hammer.

“You act like I want to be cured!” Dean said. He smashed a larger hole into the door and looked at Dam. “Personally, I like the disease. And you know what? So does Y/N.”

“Dean, stop that!” Sam said as Dean began breaking through the door again. Sam pulled out the demon knife. “Look, I don’t want to use this blade on you!”

Dean laughed. “That sucks for you, doesn’t it? ‘Cause you really mean that!”

“Look, if you come out of that room, I won’t have a choice!”

“Sure you will! And I know which one you’ll make. Isn’t that right, Sammy? ‘Cause you can’t stand the thought of going back to Y/N with my blood on your hands,” Dean said. “But see … here’s the thing: I’m lucky. Oh, hell, I’m blessed! ‘Cause there’s just enough demon left in me that killing you? Ain’t no choice at all.”

The door broke down, and Sam ran. 

Back in the dungeon, the second bracket tore free of the concrete, and you fell to your hands and knees with a grunt. 

The bunker was too silent, and you strained your ears trying to hear something – anything – that said Sam was still alive. 

Then Dean’s voice echoed through the bunker, calling for Sam once more, and you wasted no time hunting down the hunter. 

You found them – Sam’s face in a panic, his knife to Dean’s throat. 

“Well … look at you,” Dean taunted, having yet to notice you were behind him. “Do it. It’s all you.”

Sam’s eyes shifted over Dean’s shoulder and landed on you. For a moment, he hesitated, and you knew he was trying to work out if you were friend or foe. Then he lowered the knife because even if you weren’t a friend, he wasn’t willing to threaten your life, let alone take it. 

Dean took a step towards Sam, and that was far as he got before you were flinging him back down the hall and positioning yourself between the brothers.

Dean grunted when he hit the ground, but he was on his feet in seconds, a smile on his face.

“See you broke out of the chains,” he said as he eyed the shackles around your wrists. “Sweetheart, you know I’m not gonna kill you, but I got no problem breaking every bone in your body just to get to lil ol’ Sammy back there.”

Sam gripped your shoulder but you shook him off. “Y/N –”

“I got this, Sam.” You turned your attention back to Dean. “Bring it on, pretty boy.”

Dean’s eyes flashed black, he strode forward. Then Cas was there, suddenly. His arms were locked around Dean, and he was stronger than ever. 

“It’s over, Dean,” the angel said as Dean growled and struggled against Cas’s grip. 

****

Dean was back to being Dean after the last injection. You could feel it, even before he lifted his head, there was a darkness that seemed to wither away. A darkness that had been prodding at you since the moment Dean opened his black eyes. 

A part of you had always feared what would happen if you’d let it in. It had been cold and lifeless, and yet comforting. And that’s what terrified you the most.

The fact that you’d wanted to let it in. 

Sam splashed holy water across Dean’s face. Nothing happened.

“Welcome back, Dean,” Sam said, his lips curling up in a smile.

You sighed. “Great. You’re back to being boring.”

Sam gave Cas a panicked look when you left the room, but the angle simply smiled. 

“She’ll be fine, Sam,” Cas said. “Her soul feels … back to normal. Her behaviour will follow soon enough.”

****

Dean was sitting back against the head board of his bed when you leaned against his doorframe. He was staring down at the pictures he held in his hand. 

“You’re so sentimental,” you said. 

He looked up and put the pictures on his nightstand. “Y/N.” You pushed off the doorframe and walked into his room. “I thought I was too boring for you now.”

“You are,” you said as you dragged your fingers over his desk and turned to lean back against it. “But after a good night’s sleep, I won’t feel that way anymore … apparently.”

Dean nodded and shifted on his bed. “Right. You, uh – how you feel about going back to … you.”

You shrugged. “Indifferent.”

“Really?” Dean with an amused look. “Huh. ‘Cause, see, that was the last thing you wanted from what I remember.”

“Yeah, well, there’s nothing I can do about it.” He studied you a moment and you pushed off the desk. “Plus, I got Sammy back now. He’s worth going back to my fucked-up self for.”

Dean smiled. “I’m not jealous of him anymore, Y/N. I don’t mind you two being together.”

You sighed and kneeled on the end of his bed. “See? Boring.”

He chuckled, but that smile turned down as he continued to watch you. “Sam was right. What he said in the dungeon about you hating yourself for this …”

You tilted your head and smiled. “I hate myself all the time, Dean. It’s part of my charm.”

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t even crack a smile. If anything, he became sadder. “I wish you didn’t. I wish I could take away all the pain you feel. I wish you could look at your reflection in the mirror for more than ten seconds. I wish … I wish you loved yourself as much I love you.”

You almost looked like your normal self as you stared at him. “You know, if I was my old self I might say that I wish the same for you.” A heartbeat went past, though Dean felt like his eyes had been locked with yours for far longer. Then you grinned and the spell broke. “But I’m not, and I think you’re being a Debby downer.” You got off the bed and headed for the door. “Maybe Sammy will be more fun.”

Dean breathed out a sigh of disappointment and Cas walked in as you left. 

“I can’t wait until she’s back to normal,” Dean said. 

“I understand,” Cas said. “She’s usually much more … comforting. Kind. I miss that.”

“Yeah, well, if things go right for once, we’ll have her back tomorrow. You, though, you look great. So … are you back?”

Cas shrugged. “At least temporarily. It’s a long story. Crowley, stolen grace. There’s a female outside in the car.” Dean narrowed his eyes but Cas shook his head. “Another time.”

Dean nodded. “Well, thank you for, um … stepping in when you did. What did Sam say? Does he want a divorce?”

“I’m sure Sam knows that whatever you said or what you did, it wasn’t really you. It certainly wasn’t all you.”

“I tried to kill him, Cas.”

Cas sighed. “Dean. You two have been through so much. Look, you’re brothers. It’d take a lot more than trying to kill Sam with a hammer to make him want to walk away.”

Dean scoffed. “You realize how screwed up our lives are that that even makes sense?” Cas laughed. “I’m glad you’re here, man.”

Cas began to leave but turned back when he reached the door. “Hey, maybe you should, um … take some time before you get back to work. Allow yourself to heal. It’s, uh … I don’t know. The timing might be right. Heaven and Hell—they seem reasonably back in order. It’s quiet out there.”

Cas left then, and Dean stared at the door. A million things were whirring through Dean’s mind, so fast that it almost felt like there was nothing in there at all. 

The things that he’d done … he knew the blood stains were never coming off his hands. 

And then there was you.

As much as he wanted you back to normal, he was dreading the backlash when you woke up in the morning. Because he believed, without a doubt, that his relationship with you the past weeks had been abusive. 

He’d treated you the same way your father did. The only thing he could be grateful for was that he’d had enough sense not to force himself on you.

But he’d kidnapped you. Handcuffed you to his bed for days on end without reprieve. Threatened you. Hurt you in fits of rage and jealousy. 

He’d been no better than his own father when John came home drunk to find Dean had lost the grocery money. 

Dean wasn’t sure he could face you when you were back to your old self. He wasn’t sure that you could face him.


	53. Paper Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's your first case together since you and Dean were 'back to normal'. It was supposed to be run of the mill - ease you into the hunting life again - but things are never so simple, and Sam is still searching for closure from Dean and in denial that anything was ever wrong with you.

Sam and Dean were lounged back in beach chairs on a boat dock – sunglasses on, beer in hand, staring at you as you sat at the end of the pier and kicked your legs. 

Sam was more than ecstatic to have you back – he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you. Dean was still figuring out how to come to terms with what happened without actually talking about it. And you … you acted as though nothing had happened. You were happier than you’d ever been. That – more than anything – clued Dean in that you were far from okay.

Sam was in denial. He just wanted a moment – one moment – of peace. He wanted to look at you and not worry. Just for a little while, he wanted his wife to be perfectly okay.

“Hey, something I needed to ask you,” Dean said. 

“Shoot,” Sam said as he watched you stand and make your way back up the pier.

Dean smiled. “You've been ... kicked, bit, scratched, stabbed, possessed, killed ... and you sprain your friggin' elbow?”

Sam sighed. “Dude, it was more than a sprain. All right? And it was a friggin' demon, but ...”

“What? That sling come with a slice of cry-baby pie on the side?”

Sam scoffed and Dean chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” you said as you stopped in front of them.

“Just teasing Sammy about his arm,” Dean said as he set aside his beer and pulled you down to straddle his lap. 

He made a sound of approval when he felt your core press against his jean-clad cock. 

“Yeah?” you said as you smiled at Sam. “Maybe you can ask him why he’s refusing to screw my brains out until he gets that sling off.”

Dean frowned at his brother. “You are?”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah. I got no control over her with one hand.”

You chuckled. “You’re such a control freak.”

“Ah shit,” Dean said.

“What?” Sam said. 

Dean gave you an apologetic look. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Dean doesn’t want to get into my pants either,” you said.

“What?” Sam said again.

Dean sighed. “Of course I want to have sex with you, Y/N.”

“Then why won’t you?” you whined. “Come on, Dean. It’s been weeks.” You rolled your hips against him and pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss when he moaned. “I’m not wearing anything under this flannel.”

He growled. “We’re out in public.”

You grinned. “I know. It’s kinda hot.”

“Fuck,” Sam groaned. You and Dean looked at him. He swallowed. “I did not mean to say that out loud.”

You smiled and looked back down at Dean. “Come on.” You began rolling your hips against him. Rubbing your clit along his bulge. You nipped at his ear. “I’m so wet for you, Dean. I want you to fuck me. Deep and hard.”

“Jesus,” Sam said. “Just fuck her, Dean. Please.”

Dean smiled. “No.”

You whined and slipped from Dean’s crotch to between his legs. “But I’m so horny.”

“You’ve got two hands.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I also have two husbands.” Dean didn’t respond. You growled in frustration, climbed off the chair and stomped your way back down the pier. 

Sam blew out a breath. 

“If you’re that concerned, why don’t you sleep with her?” Dean growled.

Sam held up his hand. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Yeah?” Sam said. “Wanna know what else I’m thinking?”

Dean rolled his eyes and picked up his beer. “I’m fine, Sam.”

“Really? ‘Cause the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen just asked you to screw her brains out and you turned her down.”

“So did you.”

Sam scoffed. “Believe me, that wasn’t without effort. I just … I can’t – you know – finish unless I know I can hold her down. And I don’t need the blue balls, thanks.”

Dean chuckled and took a mouthful of beer. “She’s right. You are a control freak.”

“Yeah, well, obviously I’m not the only one with issues right now.”

Dean sighed and sat forward on his chair. “Okay. Fine, yes … I might have a few things that I need to hash out. But it’s personal. I can deal with it. I just need some time.”

Sam shook his head and looked out at you. “You’re married to a woman who would die for you. A woman with her own truck load of insecurities and issues. You don’t get ‘personal’ anymore, Dean. You don’t get to keep things to yourself. Neither of us do.”

****

You were finishing up the fries on your plate, huddled up on a bench seat in the local diner. Sam sat next to you, his good arm stretched out along the back of the seat behind you. Dean sat across from you, munching down on a burger.

“See that thing in the paper this morning?” Dean said. 

Sam raised his brow at you. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Baby, you were the one who gave me the paper. Opened to the article and everything.”

You went back to your fries and stifled your smile. Sam looked back to Dean. “Maybe it was an animal kill,” he said.

“It was three kills,” Dean said, “and it was in the same town, all within the last month.”

“Yeah, you're right. We should call some guys, have 'em fix it.”

You nodded. “Good. Smart.”

“Done.”

A tense silence passed, then Dean said, “Or ... we could be in and out. It's a milk run.”

Sam laughed. “Right, because that happens… never.”

Dean sighed and gave his brother an earnest look. “Look, Sam, what we're doing here, it's good, okay? You and me hanging out. Got Nymphomaniac over here skyrocketing everyone’s blood pressure. It’s great. But I need to work … I need this.”

You smiled up at Sam. “Or …” you squeezed his thigh and stretched up to lick the edge of his ear, “we could find the nearest motel.”

Sam groaned. “Fuck. Okay, fine, if things go sideways ... I mean, like, an inch, you gotta give me the heads-up.”

Dean sagged in relief. “Done. You got my word.” Then he was stuffing the rest of the burger into his mouth and launching from his chair in seconds. 

****

The three of you stood in front of the Sheriff of King County station, and you’d never felt more stupid dressed as a Game Warden. Being a hunter, you didn’t get a lot of chances to look your best. But a Game Warden uniform was the lowest you’d been. If it wasn’t for Dean’s stares and Sam’s groping, you’d feel about as sexy as shit on a stick.

“You boys must come up on stuff like this all the time … and, uh, lady.” You gave him a tight smile for the afterthought. “Hell, seen raccoons in rec rooms and bears in swimming pools. But this? You tell me.”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled.

The Sheriff looked on expectantly. You realised he was waiting for a good story. 

“Oh,” Dean said. “Well, uh ... where do we start? What with, uh ... logging.”

“Ice caps,” Sam said. 

“Bitcoin. Yeah.” The Sheriff gave him a skeptical look and Dean became flustered. “Obama.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe you should walk us through the attacks,” you said to the Sheriff. “Any similarities, anything weird.”

“Only thing weird about them was how similar they were,” he said. “Folks torn clean through. Hearts … absent.”

“Hearts absent as in –”

“Consumed, most likely.”

“And there were no witnesses?” Dean said. 

“Well, the town square attack, the parking lot ... those were real late. But the bar? Hell, with how jammed the place was, you'd think somebody other than Tommy would've seen something.”

“And what did he see?” Sam said.

“Honestly, not much. Now Tommy ain't exactly what we call a reliable witness. And he's telling anybody who'll listen he saw some girl go out back with Barker, and she got torn up, too.”

“So there was a second victim?” you said with a furrowed brow.

“Well, sure ... except Tommy's a drunk. There's no body, no D.N.A., no blood trail, no nothing to suggest that.”

A deputy approached with some paperwork that the Sheriff excused himself to read over.

“Hearts missing,” Dean said when the Sheriff and deputy were out of ear shot. “Sounds wolfy to me, right?”

“Yeah. Pretty brazen, even for a werewolf,” Sam said.

You turned to them. “You think it was the girl?”

Sam shrugged. “Let's find out.”

****

A talk with Tommy led you to an old farm on the outskirts of town. He’d insisted the girl was a ghost, but none of you were quite willing to accept that just yet.

“Ghosts don't shred people like that,” Sam said as you and Dean checked the magazines of your .45’s. 

“Yeah, well ... this flea bag, looks like she ain't done chowing down on Sons of Anarchy just yet,” Dean said. 

You clicked your flash light on and shined it over the outside of the seemingly deserted barn.

“Guess she likes bad boys,” Sam said.

Dean grinned. “Well, wait’ll she gets a load of us.”

You turned and shone your light in Dean’s face. “You calling yourself a bad boy Dean Winchester?” 

With the light in his eyes, he couldn’t give you much of a tough guy act. Sam laughed and followed you when you turned on your heel. Dean came up the rear with a grumble. 

There wasn’t much to find outside except for an abnormal amount of dead chickens. You went around the back with Sam while Dean took the front. Before either of you could make it inside, a woman came running out with Dean chasing after her, gun drawn. 

Sam caught her and aimed his gun, but when you caught sight of her face you lowered your own weapon.

“What?” Dean said. 

Neither of you said anything. He grabbed the woman’s sleeve and spun her around to see her face.

“Kate?”

It was the werewolf the three of you had let go – the one who’d documented how she, her boyfriend and their friend were turned into werewolves.

After the initial shock, you had Kate strung up by her wrists from the rafters of the barn. Her face was defiant.

“I know who you are,” she said.

“Congratulations,” Dean said.

“After what happened at school, I thought you'd let me go.”

“Yeah, well, that was before you started dropping bodies,” Sam said.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Guy at the bar saw you before you went all Wolverine on his buddy,” you said. “So ... surprise. Here we are.”

Sam switched on his puppy-dog eyes. Dean mocked him for them all the time, but you’d experienced firsthand how effective they could be. “Kate, you said you were gonna go straight. What happened?” he said.

Her eyes darted around for a moment. Then she set her jaw and lifted her chin. “I guess things change. Being this ... I tried to be strong, but the hunger was too much. Too hard. It's not like anyone gave me a handbook on how to be a werewolf.”

You frowned. An odd feeling nagged at the back of your mind.

“Looks like you're doing a pretty good job so far,” Dean said. “Break some hearts, then you eat 'em.”

“I was on my own,” Kate said. “I ... evolved.”

Sam’s brows shot up in shock. “So that's what you call killing innocent people?”

She swallowed. “Whatever you're gonna do, just ... do it.”

Sam and Dean shared a look before Dean pulled back the hammer of his gun and aimed it at Kate. He hesitated. Sam put a hand on his arm. 

You followed them when they moved away from Kate to talk.

“Hey. You know what? Let me do it,” Sam said.

Dean gave him a confused look but you knew where Sam was going with this. “Why?”

“Because ... I think you should sit this one out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You're not ready, Dean.”

Your phone rang, cutting off Dean’s answer. You dug it out of your pocket and put it to your ear. It was the Sheriff. 

“Warden, we had another animal attack over at the high school gymnasium,” he said. “Guy was a security guard. Same M.O. as the other three.”

“When?” you said.

“Deputy said the victim's blood was still warm when he got there, so had to be less than an hour ago.”

You nodded. “Of course. Thank you. Um, I'll be in touch.” You hung up and looked at Sam and Dean. “We got a problem.”

“What, besides, uh, werewolf Barbie over here?” Dean said.

“Yeah. There was another kill, across town, just before dark.”

Sam shifted on his feet. “Well, how did Kate get her murder on and then get back here b—” You scrunched up your face and raised your brows. “You don't think she did it.”

You shook your head. “Look... I don't know, Sammy. But as far as I'm concerned –”

There was a snap from the rope and then a blur as Kate broke free and bolted out the back door.

“Damn it!” Dean growled.

None of you bothered to chase her. She was far too quick and it had long been dark. With suspicions of another werewolf out there, neither one of you was willing to chase her into the woods.

“All right,” Dean said, “if she's not icing people, then why play the big bad wolf?”

“Maybe she's running with a pack? You know, trying to protect them?” you said.

“Well, a hell of a price to pay. She was about two seconds away from taking a dirt nap.”

Dean pulled a pink phone from his pocket and fiddled with it.

“What is that?” Sam said.

“It's her phone. Let's see who she was booty calling when we pulled up.”

He pressed redial and put it on loudspeaker. 

“Thank you for calling the Lincoln Motel. Can I help you?” a woman’s voice said.

Dean hung up and the three of you jumped into the Impala. 

****

Sam and Dean sat in the car waiting for you to come out of the restroom of the truck stop they’d parked in. 

“So what's this about me not being ready back there?” Dean said.

Sam stumbled over his reply. “I'm -- I wasn't ... trying to start something, Dean. I was just saying, I thought that was the whole point of us taking a break. You know?”

“Oh, no. No, yeah. I get that. And, you know, there's no worries there.”

Sam nodded. “Okay.”

The was a moment of silence when the restroom door opened - it wasn’t you. 

“But I gotta ask,” Dean said. “What about you?”

“What about me, what?”

“Are you ready?”

Sam’s brow furrowed. He shifted in his seat. “Why wouldn't I be ready?”

“Lester,” Dean said. 

“Lester?” Sam turned to him. “You're serious? This is about Lester?”

Dean lifted a hand to calm Sam. “Um, don't get me wrong. I'm not -- I'm not -- I'm not trying to start anything either, okay? I'm just saying, maybe ... maybe we oughta talk about that … and any others.”

“Okay, except there's nothing to talk about. And there weren’t ‘others’.”

Dean shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

The silence stretched and suddenly it felt like you were taking too long. It didn’t matter that it had only been a few minutes. Sam wanted you back in the car.

“I just figured,” Dean said, “since we're opening up veins that maybe you'd want to talk about the guy who you made sell his soul.”

Sam’s reply was indignant. “The guy who you then killed, right? I mean, that's the same guy we're talking about?”

“I was a demon.”

“Oh, you were a demon? Oh, I didn't realize that.”

Dean ran his tongue along his teeth. “Hey, man, Lester was gonna pay for that soul shake sooner or later. So technically, it's still on you.”

Sam growled in frustration. “What do you want from me, Dean? Look, I wa -- I'm not happy about it, okay? But I needed to find Y/N. So if I had to ... bend a few rules ...”

“Go dark.”

Sam scoffed. “Go dark. Sure. Label it if you want.”

Dean’s jaw ticked. “Find her, huh?”

Sam shook his head and dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “Yes, Dean. You were an afterthought. I’m not apologising for something when you’d do the same. You’re not my priority anymore. And I’m not yours. It’s been like that a few years now.”

“Never thought we’d let a woman get between us,” Dean muttered. 

“She’s not just any woman,” Sam snapped. “And she hasn’t gotten between us.”

“No, you’re right. It’s just I get turned into a demon but she’s the one you looked for.”

Sam’s chest burned with anger, but then he saw you come strolling out of the restroom. You smiled at him when he caught your eye through the windshield and his anger burned away. 

“You’re wrong, Dean,” he said. “I’d still die for you. I just wouldn’t sacrifice her to save you.”

“But you’d sacrifice me to save her, wouldn’t you?”

Sam thought long and hard about his answer as he watched you make your way over. So long that you were almost at the car when Sam turned to his brother and said, “Yeah, I would. And you’d do the same to me.” He looked back at you. “Like I said. Our priorities have changed.”

****

After a brief hunt around the motel, the three of you tracked who you assumed was Kate along a jogging trail in the woods. But after Dean was attacked by her, it came to fruition that she wasn’t in fact Kate. She was Kate’s werewolf sister. 

“Kate, why is your sister a werewolf, huh?” Dean growled as he pulled his gun on her. Sam tried to calm him down but he just demanded that she talk. 

“Put the gun down,” Sam said.

“Why? So she can run again? Nuh-uh.”

“She just saved our lives.”

Dean’s hand didn’t waiver. Then, suddenly, his entire body sagged, his features softened, the gun lowered. Sam was confused at first, then he saw your hand rubbing Dean’s back under his shirt and it made sense.

Sam had almost forgotten the effect you had on the Mark. Your touch was like a sedative to Dean. If that effect was reappearing, then Sam knew it wouldn’t be long before the Mark’s hostility towards you grew once more as well. 

“My sister is a werewolf because I turned her into one,” Kate said.

“Okay, this is the part where you help yourself out,” you said.

“I-I don't care. All right? I'm sick of the lies.”

“Let me get this straight,” Dean said as he tucked his gun away. “We let you run because we take pity on you, and you turn around and you start making pups? You start killing people?”

“It's not like that,” Kate shouted. “I'm no killer.”

“Well, the way I remember it from the snuff film that you left us, is that you killed your boyfriend's best friend.”

“That's because Brian went crazy. I had no other choice.”

“Okay, Kate, if this wasn't you ...” Sam said.

“That's a big ‘if,’” Dean said.

“Then who was it? Your sister? Your sister do this, Kate?”

She said nothing. 

“Really?” Dean said. “You almost took a bullet for her, and you got nothing?”

She shook her head. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth!”

“Maybe you should take this somewhere else,” you said as you nodded towards a group of joggers that were approaching. 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Dean said as he motioned for Kate to move ahead. “Go grab some coffee, maybe some bear hearts. Let's party.”

The four of you took the conversation to a nearby diner where Kate flashed the silver knife she promised to use on herself if she ever lost it like her boyfriend did.

“Saying it and doing it are two different things,” you said. You were squished between Sam and Dean on one bench seat while Kate sat across from you.

“I'm serious,” she said. “And whether you believe me or not, I've never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. And I have never, ever eaten a human heart.”

“Guess that explains all the dead chickens back at the barn,” Sam said. 

“I eat what I can find, what people won't miss, hopefully. Small game, deer. I meditate. Yoga helps.”

“Yoga?”

Dean gave her a mocking laugh. “Okay.”

“You laugh,” Kate said, “but ... I'll pretty much try anything to keep that side of me under control.”

“Well, that is great, Kate. It really is. And it's nice to see that, uh, this hippie-dippie new age crap has had such a positive influence over your sister.”

She sighed. “Tasha ... she's a different story. After I left school, I was ... adrift. Lost. Not really sure where to go or ... what to do, so ... I went someplace safe. I went home. But ... even though I'd be good, I started to think about my family. How safe were they going to be? I was a werewolf. And then, of course, there was you three. What if you showed up and tried to kill me? I couldn't risk that. So I ... walked away. Never called, never wrote, just ... started a new life. Until one day, I saw a posting on my sister's Facebook page. Tasha had been in a really bad car accident. The doctors didn't think she was gonna make it. We were always so close, so ... I had to go say goodbye. Then ... it hit me. This curse that I had, that had brought me nothing but pain and suffering, could actually finally maybe do something good. If I turned Tasha into a werewolf, it would heal her wounds, save her life, give her a second chance. So, uh ... I did the unthinkable. At first, I thought I'd failed, that ... even though werewolves heal quickly, it was too late for Tasha. Then she woke up, not sick anymore, but okay. Tasha had so many questions. What happened? How did she get here? So ... I was straight with her. The good, the bad, the ugly. What we were and why we could never go back home, and … the responsibility we had to control what we'd become. It was a lot to swallow. But we had each other, and that felt like enough. Or ... so I thought. My sister, she gave in to everything that I had warned her about. And ... I knew, even if I couldn't bring myself to admit it then ... I knew I was losing her.”

“So back at the barn, that was all just an act to protect Tasha?” Sam said. 

“She's family. And, yeah, worth eating a bullet for.”

Sam and Dean’s eyes turned to you. 

“And she needs me now more than ever,” Kate continued. “This is my mess. I gotta clean it up.”

“And how do you plan on doing that, Kate?” you said. 

“By getting Tasha out of here.”

“She hasn't listened to you yet,” Sam said. “Why do you think she's gonna start now?”

Kate’s eyes teared up, and for a moment, you understood her desperation. “I don't know, but ... I've gotta try. Y-you know, we'll go out into the woods. We'll drop out for however long it takes until she learns to control this.”

“Little late for team building, do you think?” Dean said.

“So, what? I just abandon her? I did this. I owe her every chance to make it right.”

“What if she never does?” you said.

She swallowed. “Then I'll take care of it.”

“You'll take care of it?” Deans said. “You know what that means?”

“Why don't you ask Brian?”

Dean licked his lips and glanced about the diner. “Well, maybe it doesn't have to come to that. You know, if you had shot straight with us from the get-go, we might've been able to help you a lot sooner.”

“What do you mean?” Kate said.

“By curing you both.”

Your brow furrowed. Sam tensed beside you.

“Shut up,” Kate said.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, or you're welcome.”

“There is no cure for werewolves.”

“And for a long time, that was true, but we found one.” Kate gave you and Sam an eager look. You kept your face as blank as possible. “Now we've got everything we need on our end. Okay? But the clock is tickin', and we need one more thing -- Tasha. Unless … you wanna do this without her?”

“N-no. No. It's a long drive, but ... I know where to find her.”

****

Dean’s ‘cure’ was a bullet to the head. And with no other solution, you and Sam followed his lead and let Kate take you to her sister.

You took the back seat with the intention of getting some shut eye, which you did, your head in Sam’s lap. He combed his fingers through your hair as you slept, and not long after, Kate was out too.

“I gotta tell you something,” Sam said to Dean, his voice quiet so as not to wake your or Kate. “I, uh ... I lied about Lester.”

“What?” Dean said.

“There were others.”

“Other humans?”

“No. No, no. And -- and I'm sure there were a few hunters I rubbed -- or I ... punched the wrong way, but ... No. I pretty much saved my best stuff for the bad guys. But you gotta understand something, Dean. I watched you die. I watched Y/N fall to pieces. I mean first Gadreel … and then you … she was just …. And then suddenly you were both gone and – and I couldn’t find her, Dean. I couldn’t …”

“Yeah,” Dean said, his voice soft as he watched his brother struggle with his own emotions in the rear-view mirror.

“Yeah.”

“I know. I guess I was hoping that note would, you know, fill in the blanks.”

Sam scoffed. “’Let her go’? That note? Yeah, that was really informative. Thanks.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah. I ...”

“What?”

“It's embarrassing, you know?”

“W-what's embarrassing?”

“All of it,” Dean said, his face scrunched in shame. “You know, the -- the -- that note. Crowley. The way I treated Y/N. Everything.”

“Dean, you were a demon.”

Dean glanced back over his shoulder. “I was a demon? Oh, thanks. I didn't -- I didn't realize.”

Sam smiled and glanced out the window. “Shut up.”

“Not to mention, I never even said ‘thank you’ so ...”

“You don't ever have to say that, not to me.”

Dean nodded and tapped his hands against the steering wheel. “Well ... good. Then I guess ... guess it's all gravy. Little R&R and we are back at it.”

He reached over and tapped Kate’s arm to wake her up and get further directions to the cabin that was the rendezvous spot for her and her sister.

****

The hunt was a success, or a failure, depending on your perspective. Tasha was dead – by her own sister’s hand – along with the other two werewolves she’d turned. Kate was in the wind once again, however. 

“So we going after her?” Dean said as he sped down the road away from the cabin. 

“I don't know, Dean.”

“But you gotta admit, when push came to kill, she did good.”

“Yeah. So maybe it's a good thing you didn't shoot her.”

“Really?” Dean said. “You're gonna Monday morning quarterback this thing? If you got an itch to scratch ...”

“Look,” Sam said, “we all jumped on this case. I agree. Equal parts blame there. But the whole idea behind laying low was to rest, to ... try and deal with everything we – everything you two went through. Maybe we jumped back in too fast. I mean, Dean … you were a demon. You still have the Mark. And Y/N … we still don’t know what happened to you.”

You shifted in your seat and avoided his gaze.

“I’ll admit,” he continued, “I’ve been denying it but ... maybe we should talk about it.” 

“Talk about it how?” you said, irritated by the line of questioning. 

“Come on, baby.”

“I am coming on, Sam. Look … I know what happened. Okay? I was there. Remember? I'm not trying to get by it. I just ... that's not what this was about. At least not for me.”

“Then what is this about?”

You felt your anxiety levels rise and Dean came to your defense. “It’s about gettin' back in the saddle. Okay? Doing something good, not stewing in our own crap.”

“And what if neither of you are ready?”

Dean’s jaw ticked. His hands squeezed around the steering wheel. You pulled your knees up to your chest and hugged them.

“Let's say you're right,” you muttered.

“About what?” Sam said.

“Everything. Maybe we’re not ready to hunt.” Your eyes burned with tears and your voice broke. “But I’m just trying to do the right thing, Sammy. ‘Cause I'm so sick and tired of doing the wrong one.”

Dean’s face was understanding when he looked down at you and pulled you into his side. Sam realised then that he would never truly know what the two of you did all those weeks – to innocent people and to each other.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.


	54. Start The Nightmare From The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking place between episodes 5 and 6 of season 10, Sam and Dean are ready to give up the goods. Afterwards, the three of you have a long overdue talk about the Mark and the future of your relationship.

Sam grunted when his back hit the motel wall. His mouth curled up in a smug grin as you stalked towards him in just his flannel – half the buttons missing from previous escapades.

“Finally get you to myself,” you growled as you pulled at the fastening of his jeans, biting at his bare chest. “No sling. No angst-y, high school drama kids.”

He moaned in approval of your eagerness – cupped your face in his large hands and pushed his tongue into your mouth. 

Your back was against the wall. His hands tore open your shirt and yanked it down to your elbows. He stared down at your body, one hand lifting to cup the underside of your breast.

“God I missed this,” he said. He bent down and pressed his lips to your collarbone. “And you’ve been such a tease. Driving me insane.”

You smiled and let out a moan as he trailed his kisses down to your breasts. “You’re the one who kept saying no.”

He let out a growl and you squealed with laughter when he pulled you off your feet and dumped you on the end of the closest bed.

“On your knees, baby girl.”

You did as you were told. Sitting back on your heels and spreading your thighs so he could see you – ready and waiting. 

“Like this,” you purred. 

His flannel still engulfed around your elbows and lower arms, you ran your hands over your body. Palming your breasts and teasing your fingers against your folds. Your teeth sank into your lower lip as you watched his face. His eyes were clouded and dark as they watched your hands work. His tongue flicked out over his bottom lip. His muscles flexed with the effort not to throw you down. 

“Fuck. I’ve missed you.”

You smiled. “You already said that.”

His eyes lifted to yours. They were soft and sad, now. “It’s true. I did. More than you’ll ever know.”

You placed your hands on his hips and pressed a tender kiss to his stomach. “I’m here now,” you said as you looked up at him.

He smiled and smoothed his hand over your hair as he looked down at you. “Yeah. Back where you belong.”

He bent down and gave you a long, sweet kiss. You pulled back after a moment and dragged your lips down his stomach. His abdominals flexed with every pass. 

You pulled down his already unfastened jeans over his hips and took him into your mouth. He let out a guttural moan as your tongue swirled around him. His head fell back and his eyes closed as you sucked him. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re so damn good at that.”

You moaned at the praise. Encouraged, you took him down your throat in one go. Your nails dug into his hips as you tried to force your body not to fight for air. Your nose pressed against his skin and you began to shallowly bob your head.

He growled and dropped his head to look at you. He grabbed a handful of your hair and clenched his teeth with the effort it took not to thrust.

“Yes,” he moaned. “Just like that, baby. Fuck. You’re such a good girl for me. So fucking good.”

You gagged when you pulled off him completely. A string of saliva and pre-cum stretched from your lips to the head of his cock. You looked up at him.

“I want you to fuck my mouth. Force me down on it. And don’t let me up, even if I struggle.”

His brow furrowed. “Baby …”

“I’ll tap your hip when I need air. Please, Sammy. I want you to use me until you cum.”

He took another moment to stare down at your pleading face. He’d been rough with you plenty of times, but nothing so dangerous as this. He’d controlled your blowjobs before, but he’d never fucked your throat. Never forced you down on him as you struggled for breath and gagged around him. But he could never say no to you, and when he was absolutely sure of the need in your eyes, he moved away from you.

“Hang on,” he said as he shucked his jeans completely. 

He moved over to your duffel bag, you stayed in place, facing forward. When he found what he was looking for, he turned to go back to you and froze for a moment as he marvelled at your beauty. 

He could only see the back of you. His flannel caught above your ass which had dimpled around the areas your heels pressed in. You were kneeling there – for him. He’d never been so grateful for anything in his life. 

After everything the two of you had been through, he didn’t think he could still be shocked by how much he loved you. And yet here he was – in complete awe of you, and you were doing nothing but sitting there waiting for him. You had asked to be at his mercy, but there was no doubt in his mind that he was the one at yours. He always had been. 

He circled back around to your front and showed you what he’d retrieved. A rabbit vibrator. The one you’d recently bought because neither he nor Dean was putting out. 

He handed it to you. “I want you to feel good while I do this.”

You could see his apprehension. You gave him a reassuring stroke down his arm. “Making you feel good gives me pleasure, Sammy. I don’t need this.”

“Please,” he said as he threaded his fingers through your hair. “For my peace of mind. I can’t do this if I think I’m hurting you.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that he wouldn’t be, but closed it when you realised it wouldn’t help. No matter what you said, in his eyes, you were only asking this to please him. 

You pushed up on your knees and smiled. “Put it in for me?”

The corners of his lips curled up. He pressed a knee into the mattress next to you to lower himself a little. His lips were on yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth. You moaned when you felt his fingers slide through your folds.

“Already so wet, baby girl.”

“It’s been too long,” you whined. 

He switched the vibration to the highest setting and pressed the tip of the dildo part to your clit. You moaned against his lips. “The toy not doing it for you?”

“You’re better,” you murmured. “Nothing can make me feel as good as you and Dean do.”

He made a sound of approval. You sucked in a breath when he slid the vibrator into you. The rabbit part vibrated against your clit. You let out another moan.

“Sit back down,” he said.

You lowered yourself back down on your heels. The vibrator handle was just long enough to reach the bed, preventing it from slipping out of you. He switched the rotation on next – again to its highest setting. It confused you a little that he turned the toy all the way up straight away. He typically liked to drag your first orgasm out. Make you beg him for it. Surely he couldn’t expect you to hold back with an assault like this on your nerve endings.

“Don’t move it,” he said. “Even after you cum, keep it there.”

“I can cum?” you said.

He cupped your face in his hands. “Baby, I’ve never been this rough with you – I don’t want you to stop cumming.” 

You pulled his face to yours for a kiss. “I trust you,” you said, your voice shaky as your hips rolled against the vibrator.

He rubbed his thumb against your cheek. He couldn’t remember anyone every trusting him the way you did. Your trust in him was open and absolute. It warmed his heart. 

“I love you,” he said.

He straightened and a hard shudder went through your body as your pleasure built.

“Please, Sammy.”

You gripped his hips. He gripped your hair.

“Let me know if it gets too much, okay? Promise me.”

Your mouth dropped open. “I promise. Sammy, please.”

With one last second of self-doubt, he pushed into your mouth and down your throat. You gagged. He paused for a moment. When your eyes lifted to his and you seemed calm, he began a shallow thrust. 

He was tense at first, but when nothing bad seemed to happen – when you only made muffled sounds of pleasure – he relaxed. His thrusts became longer. Harder. He let moans trickle from his mouth – afraid before to feel pleasure at your expense, he now let it wash over him.

Your throat tightened around him with every gag and swallow. Your fingers dug into the flesh of his hips but you didn’t tap him so he kept fucking your throat. 

The sounds that came from you were garbled and wet. Saliva dribbled down his balls as you coughed and gagged. He thought it should have worried him but the pleasure was intense enough that his earlier doubts had left. 

He had a rhythm going now. Long and fast thrusts. Your throat convulsed around him. Every so often he would pull out just enough so you could gasp in a breath, then he was right back down your throat. His balls slapping against your chin. 

It shouldn’t have felt so good to demean you like this. He’d seen these types of pornos and it had always put him off – made him angry even that a man would treat a woman like that. But you weren’t just any woman to him. You were the woman he would die for. 

Yes, the act seemed brutal and demeaning to him – objectively – but when he was with you … he knew he had no ill feelings towards you. No bad intentions. No need to hurt. This was about pleasure. You wanted this. You begged him for it. He wanted to make you feel good. He wanted to feel good with you.

Then your body convulsed, your eyes rolled back, your nails dug into his skin and his previous doubts came flooding back. He pulled out completely, your grip on him so tight that your nails cut furrows into his skin when he moved.

“Fuck. Y/N. Are you okay?” he said as he bent over you, terrified he’d hurt you. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Please, Sammy,” you whined. “I – I can’t.”

At first, he thought you were talking about the blow job and he was more than ready to end it there and then. Then your body convulsed again and you let out another whimper. Your thighs shook, the insides of them smeared in the slick that dripped down around the vibrator. Your fingers were soaked in it, his hips were too he realised. 

You hadn’t moved the vibrator, just like he told you, but you’d certainly clawed at it. 

It hit him then. You came, hard, around a vibrator, while he face-fucked you. You’d loved every second of it. 

Dean always joked about you being a nympho or a sexual deviant. Sam didn’t think Dean realised how close to the truth he was. How filthy their wife really was. 

How fucking lucky they were.

Something in him snapped. Every doubt he had, every concern – gone. He still didn’t want to hurt you, but he was quickly realising that you’d never allow him to do anything that would physically hurt you. You’d never ask anything of him that you weren’t willing to give. And as long as you had an out, he was more than willing to commit any type of rough debauchery you begged for.

“Leave it,” he said as he stood back up. “You can take it, baby girl.”

He shoved himself back down your throat before you could reply. With his new-found liberation, suddenly every sound you made – every gag, every dribble of saliva, every muffled moan – seemed to amp up the intensity of his pleasure.

Nothing could ever compare to burying himself between your thighs as you wrapped yourself around him, but this was a whole new type of pleasure. The animalistic kind. The kind men only talked about finding in brothels with women they didn’t love.

But Sam loved you and somehow, he knew that’s what topped it off. That’s what made it possible for him to do this without fear. That was the difference between this and those videos he’d seen that sparked anger inside him. 

He loved you – that made all the difference in the world.

You came again – hard, with a sob that constricted your throat around him. Your body convulsed, you pushed against him but didn’t tap his hip so he forced your head down.

A moan tore from his throat when his orgasm hit him suddenly – like a truck. He grabbed handfuls of your hair, squeezing so tight he might have hated himself for it if there weren’t ropes of cum shooting out of him and down your throat. 

You struggled for air, he held you down, his head thrown back as cries of ecstasy bubbled up from his throat.

There was a tap on his hip, he let go of you immediately. He dropped to his knees, panting as you gasped for air. There were tear streaks on your cheeks and saliva sticking to your chin and neck. 

Your thighs were still shaking. You whimpered, still leaving the vibrator where it was despite your sensitivity – all because Sam hadn’t told you to move it. 

He reached between your legs and switched it off completely. You let out a groan of relief. He wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you just enough to pull it out – it lay forgotten on the corner of the bed. 

Without a word, he helped you out of his flannel and used the edges of it to clean your face. He was slow with his movements, giving you time to come out of your dazed state enough to talk.

He thought you were okay, but he wanted to make sure before he took anything further. When it came to sex, communication was the most important thing to you, and Sam had never violated that boundary. 

Not the way his brother had. Sam felt guilty for thinking it, knowing the situations had been more complicated than that, but he just couldn’t fathom that someone could hurt you like that. That Dean hadn’t stopped to think – hadn’t talked to you. 

He never talked about it because Dean’s guilt was already overflowing – not to mention Sam thought you were good for his brother – but he couldn’t help but wonder sometimes if Dean did more damage than good when it came to you. 

And then he would see the two of you together on a good day, and he’d feel like an idiot for ever thinking it.

“Was that okay?” he said when you were cleaned up.

You dragged your bottom lip through your teeth and nodded. You mewled and grabbed his hand, pushing it down between your legs as you pressed kisses over his shoulder and up his neck. 

He kissed your head and rubbed a soothing hand over your wet, sensitive core.

“Use your words, baby girl.”

“I loved it,” you murmured against his skin. “I love you.”

Your mouths moulded together. You whimpered when he slipped a finger into you, and he drank the sound down. He pulled back after a moment to slip that same finger into his mouth.

He pulled your arms up to wrap around his neck before grabbing your hips and lifting you up. You were moved to the top of the bed. Your head sank into the pillows as Sam made his way back down your body. 

You made a sound of protest and buried your fingers into his hair when his tongue slid through your folds. 

He moaned at the taste and pulled your hands from his hair, knowing you’d likely rip it out when he pushed the limits of over-stimulation. His hands wrapped around your forearms and pinned them to the bed by your sides. Your thighs tightened around his head but that didn’t stop him. 

At this point, it wasn’t about making you cum. It had been a long time since he’d had his face between your thighs – he was making up for lost time. Re-familiarising himself with your body. Your taste. Your smell. He didn’t know how he’d managed without it. 

You were fucking ambrosia. 

He ran his nose through your folds and groaned at the intoxicating smell. He felt like a dog in a rut with how bad he wanted to fuck you just then. He was already recovering quicker than normal. 

You let out a soft moan and your thighs fell open, an indication that the pleasure was building again. Sam didn’t waste time edging you. He dove straight in and latched his lips around your clit, dipping his tongue down every so often to lap up the juices that spilled from your body. 

You rolled your hips up against him. “Fuck. Yes, Sammy, just like that.”

The motel door opened then and Dean walked in. Sam lifted his head.

“This is why you wanted to stop at a motel on the way home?” Dean grunted as he closed the door. 

You giggled and wiggled your hips. 

Sam chuckled. “She was rowdy.” 

Dean shook his head in disapproval but there was no mistaking the amusement in his eyes. 

“Sammy,” you whined as you writhed beneath him.

He smiled at your impatience and buried his face back between your thighs. He didn’t worry about Dean’s presence. He would stay and watch or just leave – either way, the modesty was gone at this point in the relationship. About the only thing he and Dean hadn’t done was physically share you. 

But then Dean’s hand was on Sam’s shoulder, and all of that changed. 

Sam looked up at his brother in confusion but Dean’s eyes were focused on you.

“Do you mind?” Dean said.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what he was asking. Sam scoffed and pushed up on his knees. You closed your legs and sat up, looking between them.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something, Dean. You had your shot today. You said no,” Sam said.

Dean’s voice was strangled when he said, “Please. I – I want you to stay too. I can’t ...” He struggled with his words and Sam realised the look in his eyes was shame. “I can’t do this without you here, Sammy.”

“Dean,” you said as you took his hand in yours. “You won’t hurt me.”

“I did before,” he said.

“We hurt each other.”

Sam looked between the two of you. Dean’s face was filled with shame and sadness. Yours filled with forgiveness and a gentleness Sam had seen all the times you comforted him on his worse days.

Sam knew then that there was more going on than he knew. Whatever it was ... maybe Dean would tell him, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Dean needed you but he was too scared to ask for what he needed.

“Okay,” Sam said. “Whatever it is ... I’ll stay and help.”

Dean nodded. He didn’t thank Sam. He never had to thank Sam. 

You shifted forward and let Sam slide in behind you, his legs stretched out on either side. Dean knelt on the bed – not even bothering to take off his boots let alone anything else. That alone was indicative of Dean’s fear in that moment.

You opened your thighs and Dean shuffled between them. He was hesitant as he rested his hands on your knees. He looked at Sam over your head. The vulnerability in his eyes was something Sam had never seen from Dean before. 

“Don’t let me hurt her. Please,” Dean said. His voice broke and Sam actually felt his heart ache for his brother. 

“I won’t,” Sam said.

Again, Dean nodded. He looked back down at you and simply stared. You smiled and pulled him down by the front of his shirt for a kiss. Sam assumed Dean would start heading south but when your body jerked and you let out soft cry, he realised his brother had other plans. 

Both Dean’s hands were at your core. Two fingers curling up into your g-spot while his thumb on the other hand rubbed circles against your clit. There was no slow build-up. Much like Sam, right now Dean just wanted to watch you cum – hard. 

He pulled his face back from yours when you were moaning too much to be kissed, but he kept close enough that Sam couldn’t see his face from behind you. 

He kept his eyes on your face and every time your eyes dropped to his hands, he’d give you a soft command to look back up at him. It was a moment of intimacy. The kind you could only get with someone you loved. 

You braced your hands against Sam’s thighs to keep from falling back against him and losing that intimacy with Dean. You sucked in a breath when Sam’s hands snaked over your ribs and plucked at your nipples. 

He was meant to be there for Dean’s own peace of mind, but Sam found it difficult not to at least touch you. 

You planted your feet on the bed, on either side of Sam’s legs, and lifted your hips as your pleasure grew.

“That’s it, baby,” Dean growled as you begged and whined. “Gonna cum all over my hand for me? Huh? Gonna scream for me?”

And you did. Hard and loud. Your ass fell back to the bed. Your thighs squeezed around his head and still, he didn’t stop. You grabbed his arm in your hands. Bent forward and bit his shoulder to muffle your cries. He pressed kisses to your temple and shoulder as he worked you through the orgasm. 

You whimpered when he finally pulled his hands from your body. His eyes fluttered shut when you trailed kisses up his neck and over his jaw. Your hands made quick work of lifting off his shirt – it landed on the side of the bed. 

You pulled open his jeans and pushed them down over his ass. He was already at half-mast. His hands shook with nerves when you kissed down his sternum.

You shifted back to get better access. Sam made a strangled sound when your core met his revived shaft. You looked over your shoulder at him. Sam looked at Dean. Dean nodded and then Sam’s hands were gripping handfuls of your ass as he lifted your hips up and back down. He shuddered when he pushed himself into you. He was still sensitive from earlier, and your body was wet and hot – tight and engorged with your previous orgasms.

Dean gave out a strangled cry and Sam looked up to find you’d taken him into your mouth. He recalled all the times he and his brother had talked about never doing this. Both of them had always assumed that it would be off putting to see one another like this. Watching you get off with them was one thing – but seeing and hearing each other get off was another.

And yet, in that moment, Sam couldn’t find it in himself to feel disgusted. In fact, it was more of a turn on than anything. Not seeing Dean, but seeing you with Dean. The way you swallowed him down your throat the same way you’d just done to Sam not too long ago. The way you bounced on Sam’s cock at the same time. 

He was impressed and harder than he’d ever been in his life. 

With a groan, he leaned forward enough to reach under you and play with your swinging breasts as he kissed and licked a path up and down your spine. You moaned around Dean and he tightened his hands in your hair in response. His brow furrowed, his mouth parted as he watched your face.

By the angle of your head, Sam could tell you were looking up at Dean. He wondered what kind of view Dean had. He thought that maybe he’d do this again just to find out what your ass looked like from above as it bounced.

Sam’s hands tightened around your breasts when he felt himself twitch and jump inside you. There was no way he could hold his orgasm in. Not when you were fucking him like this. Not when he’d already shot his load into you less than half an hour ago.

He growled and sank his teeth into your back as he came in you. You fucked him harder. He had to smack your ass, a plea for mercy stuck in his throat, before you stopped and pulled up off him. 

Dean, using the hold he had on your hair, pulled your mouth away from him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap as he sat back on his heels – your legs on either side of him.

“Dean,” Sam said. “I just –”

“Don’t care,” Dean growled. Then he pushed himself into you with a moan. Sam watched in shock as his cum leaked from your body and slid down onto Dean’s balls. Dean didn’t seem phased – in fact he fucked you harder and moaned louder the more his cock became coated in his brother’s cum. 

Then the shock wore off and gave way to intrigue the longer Sam watched. It wasn’t long before he wondered what it would feel like to fuck you while your pussy was filled with cum. 

It would be hot and wet – more so than usual. The sounds it was making just then made his cock twitch, so he could only imagine what it would feel like to be inside you while he listened to it. His balls would be soaked in a mixture of your juices and cum.

And he could see just then how much it turned you on. You clawed at Dean’s shoulders and neck. Biting at his lips as he kissed you. You jerked your hips in desperation – fucking him just as hard and fast as he fucked you. Your juices ran down Dean’s balls to mix with Sam’s cum. The mixture dripped onto the bed.

Dean’s arms tightened around you. He buried his face into your neck and let out a long groan as he spilled into you. After a moment of jerked thrusts, Dean pulled you up and Sam barely got a chance to admire the view of a fresh wave of come dripping from your body before you were all but thrown back against him.

Sam caught you around the waist. Dean dove straight between your thighs and sealed his mouth around your cum-filled pussy. Sam realised he wasn’t the only one who’d gotten off on the situation. 

“Fuck. Yes,” you moaned. 

Sam wrapped his arms around you, pinning your arms to your side, and sucked your earlobe into his mouth. 

“You like it when Dean licks the cum out of your pretty little pussy?” he murmured in your ear.

“Yes, Sammy. I love it,” you cried. “Please, Dean.” 

You rolled your hips against Dean’s face. He growled against your flesh, his fingers digging into your thighs. 

“You like having both of us fuck you?”

You cried out again, your thighs closing around Dean’s head.

“You such a good girl for us,” Sam continued. “So fucking good at taking us both like that. Aren’t you, baby girl? You’re our dirty little girl. Only meant for us.”

You threw your head back as you came but Sam gripped your jaw and forced you to look down at Dean who was watching your face from between your thighs.

“Look at him while you cum all over his face,” Sam said in your ear. “You’re so fucking sexy, baby girl. Look at the mess you made on his face. You gonna clean it up?”

The moment Dean rose, Sam let you go and you launched forward. You licked at Dean’s chin and nipped his lips before finally settling into a passionate kiss when he cupped your face in his hands. 

When you settled down, he pulled back and rubbed his nose against yours.

“I told you, you wouldn’t hurt me,” you said.

All Dean could do was smile.

****

The three of you lay spent on Dean’s motel bed – Sam’s being covered in wet patches. Sam’s jeans were back on – the repulsion of Dean seeing him nude having returned when the euphoria of sex wore off – Dean’s boots were left on the ground and you were dressed in his shirt.

Sam lounged back, his legs spread, against a pile of pillows he’d gathered from his bed and the cupboard. You lounged back against him, the side of his face pressed against your head, his fingers stroking up and down your arm. 

Dean lay face down on the both of you. His feet hanging off the end of the bed. His face pressed against your stomach just below your breasts. You brushed your fingers through his hair, his eyes at half-mast. 

The three of you had been lying like that for almost an hour now. You should have left for the bunker, but none of you were willing to go back to your regularly scheduled lives just yet. It had been too long since the three of you were at peace with one another. There was no big plot twist that drove a wedge between you. The only thing left to worry about was the Mark. And for the moment, even that seemed tame.

Evidently, however, it was at the forefront of Dean’s mind.

“What if it makes me hate you again?” he whispered. 

Neither you nor Sam had to ask what he was talking about.

“Do you hate her now?” Sam said.

“No.”

“Then it won’t.”

You smoothed a hand over Dean’s forehead. “If you ever feel it start to happen,” you said as you moved that same hand down to tangle with his fingers, “just take my hand and squeeze it. Even if we’re mad at each other for something stupid. Just take my hand. I promise I’ll squeeze back.”

He squeezed your hand and you did exactly what you said you would – you squeezed back. 

“You think that’ll work?” he said.

“It did before,” Sam said. “I mean, you guys were going through a rough patch and you were too scared of what the Mark was doing to go near her half the time, but when you did … it worked, Dean. Touching her stopped it.”

Dean nuzzled his face against your stomach and kissed it. “I love you. I don’t ever want to feel like that when I look at you.”

You tugged gently at his hair. “Love you too, Dean.”

Sam kissed your temple. 

“You know,” Dean said after a moment of silence, “after everything that I did to you – everything that we did to each other … I don’t ever want to lose you again. Bickering over pie and the car radio is one thing, but I can’t go through another hitch in the road again. I don’t want to wake up and wonder if I’m ever gonna wake up next to you again. I can’t look at you and wonder if you still love me. So, I’m sorry. For every shitty thing I did. Every shitty thing I said. I just want us to be happy together again.”

“I feel the same,” Sam murmured against your skin. “All those weeks without you was a nightmare. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life like that.”

“So let’s start again,” you said. “Let’s forget all the reasons I was mad. All the reasons you two were mad. Let’s forget everything and start again.”

“Clean slate,” Dean said.

“I like the sound of that,” Sam said.

And that’s how the three of you left the motel that day. Closer than you ever had been. A fresh start. There were still things you needed to fight for and against, but this time you knew without a doubt that you were fighting together. 

No more division. No more wedges. No more questions about whether or not you were good enough for each other – if your relationship was healthy. It was what it was. 

You loved each other more than life itself, and that was a good enough.


	55. As The NIghtmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems as though all the monsters have taken a holiday, until you, Sam and Dean head out to some mansion to collect Bobby's inheritance from an unlikely friend. A case pops up before any of you can leave and you're forced to ask the age-old question - was it the butler?

You sat on the corner of the Impala’s hood. Your legs dangled on either side of the headlight. Dean’s jaw ticked in frustration and tense control as he knelt in front of you, tightening a screw on the headlight. 

You smiled as you dragged your nails across his scalp again and tickled your other fingers over your inner thigh. 

“Okay, you know what?” Dean growled as he stood and placed the screwdriver next to you. He wagged his finger in your grinning face. “You’re insatiable.”

You tucked your fingers into the front of his jeans. He swallowed and you tugged his hips forward until he was pressed against your core. “Come on, Dean. You don’t wanna fuck your wife?”

“My wife? Abso-freakin-lutely. This crazy sex demon that’s taken over her body? You gotta give us a break, baby.”

You pouted. “There’s two of you, Dean.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Exactly. Two grown ass men and you’ve got us runnin’ on gas trying to keep up with you.”

“But I want you.”

He sighed and cupped your face in his hands. “You know? When I was 18, I prayed for a woman like you.”

You grinned. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. You’re literally my dream girl. Now I know why they always say be careful what you wish for.”

He grunted when you slapped his chest. Chuckled when you narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m messing with you, baby.”

You turned your face away and sniffed. “Maybe I should get Cassie to zap me back in time. I’m sure 18-year-old you would appreciate me better.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Sweetheart, 18-year-old me wouldn’t know what to do with you. I thought I was top shit. You woulda eaten me alive.”

You rolled your eyes. The corners of your mouth curled up. “You still think you’re top shit. And to be honest, I’m not so sure 35-year-old you knows what to do with me.”

His mouth stretched into a slow grin as his hands curled around your waist. “I’ve got a few ideas,” he said.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth when he began to lean in for a kiss. “See, now I don’t know if I’m in the mood.”

“Shut up,” he chuckled. 

You were wrapped around each other and well into a heated kiss when Sam came out of the motel and approached the car. 

“Seriously, Y/ N?” he said. “You could barely walk when I went to get coffee. What’s it gonna take to wear you out?”

Dean pulled his head back and smiled at his brother. “We were just talking about that.”

Sam scoffed. “Sure looked like it.” He held out two small cups of coffee, you each took one and he cradled his own. “Individually brewed,” he said. “Technology, man.”

“Real men don’t drink out of cups this small,” Dean said.

You rolled your eyes and sniffed at the beverage. “What is that cinnamon roll?”

“It’s uh glazed donut,” Sam said. Dean pulled a face. “Look man, if you don’t want it …”

Dean held a hand up and stepped back. “Nah, it’s … got it.” He downed the whole thing in one hit and you hid your smile behind your own cup. “So, any leads on the scanner or the Interweb?”

“Nothing,” Sam said. “Not even a cat up a tree.”

“So right when we’re ready to jump back into it, it goes uh—radio silence.”

“Murphy’s law,” you said.

“Well, Murphy’s a douche. Hey, feel like taking a detour to Connecticut?”

“What?” Sam said.

Dean pulled a mobile from his back pocket. “Found it while I was dustbusting.”

Sam inspected it. “One of ours?”

“It’s one of Bobby’s,” you said.

“And, in total,” Dean continued, “27 messages. The only one that counts is from two days ago. Apparently Bobby’s been named a beneficiary in Bunny LaCroix’s will.”

“Bunny LaWho?”

“Attorney said she’s an heiress and Bobby’s presence or next of kin is being requested in New Canaan. I figured we qualify.”

“How did Bobby know an heiress, anyway?” you said.

Dean shrugged. “Bobby had secrets. Like loving on Tori Spelling. If he only knew Dean cheated on her. Anyway, road trip? Who knows – maybe Bobby earned us some beer money.”

****

Sam pulled to a stop in the driveway of the lavish mansion. Your giggle sounded from the back seat, followed up with a moan and chuckle from Dean.

“We’re here guys,” Sam said as he turned off the ignition. 

Dean’s upper body appeared in the rear-view mirror. His hair a mess, the collar of his shirt pulled down and askew. You popped up next to him in much the same fashion.

“I thought you were gonna go ‘round the block,” Dean said.

“I did. Twice. Not my problem you couldn’t finish up fast.”

You hummed and smiled as you wrapped your arms around Dean and nuzzled against his neck. “That’s what I love most,” you purred.

Sam had the urge slap the smug grin right off his brother’s face. His ego was too big for his own good, and you definitely didn’t help the matter. Not that he really had a leg to stand on himself – you had a way of making him feel like a damn king. 

He shook his head and climbed out of the car. You followed and Dean came stumbling out after, patting down his hair and doing up his jeans. 

“Wow,” you said as you looked around the estate. “Think we’re a little underdressed?”

Sam shrugged. “The Fed threads are in the trunk.”

“You kidding me?” Dean said as he started towards the front door. “For once, we don’t have to wear suits. You’re lucky my waist band’s not elastic.”

You and Sam shared a smile as Dean pressed the doorbell – Fuer Elise by Beethoven began to play. A blonde woman – who you later learned was Olivia – dressed in a house keeping uniform answered the door. 

“May I help you?” she said.

Sam smiled. “I’m Sam Winchester. This is Dean Winchester. And our – mine! Uh, my wife, Y/N Winchester.” You bit your lip and Dean coughed into his hand to hide his smile. Sam glanced at the two of you and cleared his throat. “We’re here on behalf of Bobby Singer.”

Olivia’s brow furrowed as she glanced between the three of you. “Mr. Singer won’t be coming?”

“No, he passed away,” Dean said. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Uh, condolences for your loss too,” you said.

“Thank you. Well, you just missed the funeral, but the family’s relaxing inside if you’d like to join.” 

Olivia led you all to a billiard room where she introduced you to the LaCroix family. 

A beautiful, older blonde woman, covered in jewels and a tight fitting dressed, approached the three of you. She mostly had eyes for Dean, though.

“Sam and Dean Winchester of the Westchester Winchesters?” she said. You didn’t miss the way she skipped over you. You might have been jealous if you weren’t so secure in your relationship with Sam and Dean. Nope. You weren’t the jealous type.

Possessive? Hell yeah. 

“Uh no. I don’t think there’s any relation. Sorry,” Sam said.

She smiled. “No matter. You two are adorable.” You narrowed your eyes, you felt Sam and Dean shift behind you. Could almost feel their eyes on the back of your head. “I’m Heddy, Bunny’s cousin.” She gestured behind her to another blonde woman sitting on the couch, this one had eyes for Sam. Eyes that you wanted to rip out of her head. “And this is my sister, Beverly.”

Beverly smiled and not-so-conspicuously, dropped her eyes to Sam’s crotch as she stoked her finger along the rim of her wine glass. “Charmed I’m sure.”

Heddy gestured to the man playing pool at the back of the room next to yet another blonde woman – this one far younger. “And that’s Bunny’s youngest brother Stanton. Stan for short.”

“Come on in, join the mourning,” Stan said.

“And his child bride … Amber. And then there’s Dash. That’s the baby of the family. He’s Bunny’s great nephew – Harvard business.”

You glanced over at the younger man by the fire place. He was dressed smartly. Brunette and conventionally handsome, although a little cleaner cut than you liked. Rough lumberjack was your go to type. 

He was looking at you over the top of the glass of whiskey he was sipping. It seemed a harmless, curious look to you. Apparently, Sam and Dean saw different. The heat of Sam’s body was at your back. Dean stepped forward so you were partially hidden behind his shoulder and Dash had no choice but to look at him. Nothing out of the norm of what they would normally do, but Sam had already introduced himself as your husband, which meant Dean was running on instinct rather than rational thought. 

You had hoped no one would notice but by the smug, knowing grin Dash was sending Dean … this was gonna be a long visit. 

Dash turned his eyes back to you – tilted his head to try and get an unobstructed view. The guy had a death wish if he wasn’t adhering the silent warnings Sam and Dean were sending him. Even the two women who’d been all over them shivered and turned their eyes away from the brothers as they felt a change in the atmosphere, although you doubted they understood what was happening. 

“And how do you know Aunt Bunny?” Dash addressed you, swirling his whiskey in his cup – the smile still on his face. 

You knew better than to talk to him when Sam and Dean were like this. It was the kind of macho crap you pretended to hate but secretly loved. There was a time and place for it. A smug faced, handsome business man making love eyes at you. No case. No monster to hunt down. This was definitely the time and place for Sam and Dean to go all alpha-male on your ass. 

So, maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

“She doesn’t,” Dean growled. 

“We didn’t personally know her,” Sam said, his voice calmer though no less threatening. “Our surrogate dad, Bobby Singer did.”

“Bobby? Never heard of him,” Beverly said. Her eyes swept over Sam. “But you can fill us in over the weekend, huh.”

“The weekend?” you said, venom burning your tongue.

“Didn’t the attorney tell you?” Heddy said with a dismissive glance in your direction. “Service was today and the reading of the will tomorrow.”

“Oh, but you’re welcome to spend the night,” Beverly purred with a suggestive smile. “All the rooms sleep two.”

Heddy lifted her hooded eyes to Dean’s. “Or three.”

Dean cleared his throat. You stepped in front of him – your very presence demanding Heddy’s attention – and gave her a humourless smile. “We’ll be taking that room, sweetheart. All three of us.”

Dash chuckled as Heddy’s eyes widened. He gulped down the rest of his drink. “Guess you got what you wished for, ladies. Brothers who share. Must suck to know they don’t want to share you.”

Heddy narrowed her eyes at her cousin. Beverly suddenly seemed more interested with her wine glass than Sam.

Olivia entered the room then with an older gentleman you assumed was the butler. She’d mentioned him when she led you to the billiard’s room. Phillip, his name was.

Amber, who’d been annoying her husband with her enthusiasm, pulled a face when she looked at them. “Where’s Colette?”

“She quit,” Phillip said. “Poor dear was so distraught over Mrs. LaCroix’s passing. Went off to find herself.”

“Ashram in India?” Heddy said as she took a seat once more beside Beverly.

“Uh, clown college in Sarasota.”

“Good choice.”

Phillip nodded once then approached the three of you. “May I have a word with you in the hall in five minutes?”

You agreed and he left. Beverly took the chance to strike. She set her glass down and bounded over to Sam, flipping her hair over her shoulder like she was still in her early twenties. You’d admire her if she wasn’t about to hit on your husband in front of you.

“So, Sam, tell me,” she said, “do you work out?”

Sam gripped your shoulders and pushed you out in front of him towards her. “Uh, with my – my wife. All the time. We do a lot of the – the, uh, working out.”

Dean smirked. “He’s talking about sex.”

Beverly’s eyes dropped to you. Her lips curled up. You knew that look. Your brows raised in shock. 

“Well, I’d love for her to join us … this weekend.”

You smiled. “I mean –”

“No,” Sam said, louder than you were sure he meant to. He yanked you back into him, his arms going around you.

“Absolutely not,” Dean said as he cut his hand through the air. He jerked his chin towards a smiling Dash. “That includes Sigma Beta over there. You stick to your weird orgy group. We’ll stick to ours.”

****

A cross encrusted with fake jewels. That’s what Bunny had left Bobby. Phillip had given the inheritance to Sam and Dean early so they could sneak under the radar and not have to deal with the hell   
Bunny’s family would rain down on them if they found out about it. 

Of course, the first thing you did was take it to an appraiser and see how much cash you could get for it. That’s when you found out it was fake and hiding a key inside.

“I can’t believe we have to be back here,” you sighed as you crawled out of the Impala and headed back up to the front doors of the mansion. 

Phillip answered this time. And, if possible, he seemed more bleak than the last time you saw him.

“Everything okay?” Dean said.

“Not really,” Phillip droned as he held open the door for you all. “I presume you left something behind. I’ll check the front closet for burlap.”

“I got news for you Mr. Belvedere,” Dean said as he tugged at his coat, “the jacket’s canvas.”

A bald man entered the hall then and pointed a finger at you. “You three were here earlier?”

Sam and Dean shared a look.

“Yeah,” you said, “who wants to know?”

He pressed his lips together and opened his coat to reveal a badge and gun. “Detective Howard. New Canaan P.D. Congratulations, you’re now officially murder suspects.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dean said.

“Yeah, Bunny LaCroix’s brother Stanton was killed this evening. His body’s just gone to the morgue.”

Sam pointed towards himself. “And you think …”

“I don’t know what to think. And that’s why you three and anyone else who stepped foot in this house today is being detained for questioning.”

The family had already fallen apart and were scavenging each other for pieces when you walked into the lounge to find Beverly, Heddy and Dash.

“It’s so obvious she’s guilty,” Heddy snapped in Dash’s face as Beverly swayed in her drunken state on the couch.

“You’re off your rocker, old lady,” Dash spat back.

“Old lady? I …” She caught sight of Sam and Dean, straightened her spine and finished in a more calm manner, “I’m 39.”

Dash scoffed as he looked at the three of you. “And you have been since ’03.”

Heddy didn’t like that. In fact, she looked about ready to tear out her cousin’s throat.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Sam said, “but – but who’s guilty?”

“The town slut, Amber,” Heddy growled. “She killed Stan.”

“And what’s her motive, Murder She Wrote?” Dash said.

Heddy rolled her eyes. “Oh, everyone knows that Amber was sleeping around. She wanted to leave Stan but her prenup was ironclad. So, she killed him.”

Dean scuffed his boot against the ground and shrugged, “Sounds logical.”

“Well, unless you believe that ridiculous story that she’s been peddling. A ghost killed Stanton. Honestly.”

“Uh, a ghost?” you said.

Heddy threw her hands up in disdain. “She’s claiming that Bunny’s late husband, Lance did it. Have you ever heard such a thing? What a panic! So, stupid.”

“You’re nutty as a squirrel on those synthetic hormones,” Dash hissed. 

“Nutty? How appalling of you. Don’t they teach you manners in Harvard?” 

You sighed and turned to Sam and Dean, trying to drown out the screeching going on behind you.

“Looks like we might have a case here,” you said.

“Vengeful spirit?” Sam said.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Think we can get to the car, get the EMF?”

“Not with uh Detective Friendly. Not a chance. Guess we’re gonna have to go old school.”

You clapped your hands together. “All right, cold spots it is.”

“You stay here,” Dean said as he smoothed a hand down your back. “Keep an eye on Mrs. Peacock and Colonel Mustard. I’ll sniff around.”

“Uh, Dean,” Sam said. “Are you sure we wanna leave her alone with …?” He cleared his throat and jerked his chin towards Dash who was still fighting with Heddy.

“Not in a million years,” Dean said. “Which is why you’re staying with her.”

Sam sighed and Dean clapped him on the shoulder before heading out of the room.

It didn’t take long for Beverly and Heddy to round Sam up into a game of cards. It might have bothered you that he agreed if he hadn’t been sneaking glances and smiles filled with inside jokes and mischief at you the whole time – effectively getting on Heddy’s nerves.

Dash took a little longer to approach you. Probably because he was used to women approaching him first. 

“Got to say,” you said as he sidled over with his signature smirk and whiskey, “for a family that just lost two members, you all seem … fine.”

“Well Y/N, I’ll let you in on a little family secret.” He leaned close. “We don’t really like each other. Then again, what family does?”

You shrugged. “Depends. My family … well, let’s just say it made yours seem like the Brady Bunch. Then I met Sam and Dean. They like each other.” You smiled to yourself. “For the most part.”

He hummed. His eyes trailed over you. “I’d say they more than like each other if they’re willing to share you around.”

Your jaw tightened. “They’re not sharing me around. And it’s really none of your business.” His gaze didn’t leave you and his smile didn’t falter. So, you switched subjects. “Why are you so sure Amber didn’t do it?”

His smile faltered. He straightened. “Because Amber’s not a killer. She has trouble using WiFi. I don’t exactly think she’s capable of murder.”

Your lips curled. “You sure it’s not because you’re fucking her?” His face paled and it never felt so satisfying to take a frat boy down a peg. “I have two, red-blooded husbands. You really think I don’t know how a man looks at the woman he’s fucking?”

His jaw ticked. He turned his eyes away from you and swirled the whiskey in his glass. “I can’t say I know what you’re talking about. Your assumptions are a long way off.”

You scoffed. “Really? And her story about the ghost?”

He latched on to that. “I don’t believe in ghosts. That said, if anyone would come back to haunt, it’s Uncle Lance. Heard he was a real bastard. No one really mourned his death except Aunt Bunny who became a recluse after he died. So maybe the old goat has a chip on his shoulder. Who the hell knows?”

Detective Howard entered then with Amber at his side. “Dash, you’re up.”

Dean came back not long after, dragging a thankful Sam away from his card game.

“You seen the butler?” Dean said.

“No. Why?” you said.

“Cause if anybody has answers it’s him. We’re dealing with two vengeful spirits. Apparently, Aunt Bunny had a bee in her bonnet as well.”

“Uh husband and wife tag-team killer ghosts?” Sam said.

“Well, got to keep the marriage alive somehow. The key is to a hidden attic.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Why would Bunny want Bobby to have a key to her attic?”

“I don’t know. It gets weirder. I found Olivia and Colette locked inside.”

“Clown college Colette?” you said.

“Yeah, but she ain’t studying balloon animals. She’s dead.”

You shook your head and glanced back at Beverly and Heddy to make sure they were still with their cards and not listening in. “What does the butler have to do with all this?”

“He’s the one who locked them in there. Now I don’t know why, but he’s covering for the spooks. He’s acting like their Renfield.”

“Alright,” Sam sighed, “we’ve got to find him. I’ll take upstairs. You take down here. Y/N –”

“I’ll stay here,” you said. “The badge will call me in soon. I can keep him occupied.”

“Atta girl,” Dean said before he pressed a kiss to your temple and followed Sam out. 

****

The butler was dead and the killer was a shape shifter. At least, that’s what you gathered from Dean’s rambling over the phone. 

“We gotta find some silver,” he said as the three of you stood in the kitchen looking down at Phillip’s body.

The was a cry from across the room. You looked up to see Olivia. Her face pale. Her hands shaking. 

“He was like that when we found him,” Dean said as he put a hand up to appease her.

“Who did this?” she said, her chest heaving.

“We don’t know yet, okay?” Sam said. “Now, listen. Calm down. I know you think he was working with ghosts but there’s something way worse going on here.”

“Worse than … what is going on?”

Without much of an explanation, Dean managed to rope her into tracking down the silverware.

“Why do you need all this?” she said as she opened the case to reveal the cutlery.

“For protection,” you said.

“Butter knives?”

“Trust us. There’s a method to our madness,” you said as you picked one up. You handed it to her. “Can you – uh – hold this?” She took it in her hands and when her skin didn’t sizzle you nodded and picked up a few more, handing them to Sam and Dean. They were clean too. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

****

Fifteen minutes later, when you’d cleared your part of the house. You went back to the lounge to find Sam seated between Beverly and Heddy, his arms around them as they played their fingers along his torso. 

You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the doorframe. Your scowl was ruined by the hint of amusement in your eyes at his obvious discomfort. 

As soon as he saw you. He leapt to his feet and rushed towards you. Heddy and Beverly had rediscovered their self-confidence and levelled you with smug smiles. 

As Sam hurried to explain what he was doing, you gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him down into a heated kiss. He was confused at first, but it barely took him a moment to sink into it. He tried to keep it sweet but you wanted more. You were trying to prove something.

You slipped your tongue into his mouth and placed your hand on his neck. He groaned and slipped his hands under the back of your shirt. His nails scraped against your skin as he pulled you tight against him. When his hand slipped down to grip your ass, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth. His top one snarled up and you pulled back completely when a growl rumbled up from his chest. 

His pupils were blown wide and you smiled as he watched you like prey. To say Beverly and Heddy were not impressed was an understatement. There was practically steam blowing out their ears. 

You turned and left. An extra sway to your hips. You didn’t have to look back to know Sam was following you.

He caught you just outside the door. Your breath whooshed from your lungs as he pushed you against the wall. His lips were at your neck and you let out a half-laugh, half-moan of need. 

“We’re meant to be hunting a shapeshifter,” you said as he gripped your hips and pulled them against him. His teeth were at your neck now.

“You started it,” he murmured. He spun you around and pushed you against the wall again. Your hips were pulled back and you sucked in a breath when he pressed himself against your core.

“Please,” he moaned in your ear. “Let me fuck you right here.” He ripped open the front of your shorts and slid his hand straight down. “I’ll make you feel so fucking good.”

You groaned and rubbed yourself against him like you were in a brothel. “And if the Housewives of Beverly Hills see?”

He groaned. “I hope they do. Maybe they’ll stop trying to suck my dick if they see how fucking hard you make me cum. Together they couldn’t make me feel as good as you do on your own.”

Your body was on fire. And as much as you knew this was the worst time and the wrong place … fuck, you wanted him bad. 

“We have to be quick,” you said. And before the last word even left your mouth, he had your shorts around your knees. 

He yanked open his jeans as he bit your earlobe and whispered the filthiest things in your ear. The kind of things that curled your toes and made your core ache for him.

He didn’t check to see if you were ready for him. He knew your body well enough, and he was in enough of a hurry to skimp on the foreplay. Not that you were complaining. He slammed into you right up to the hilt and the ache felt so damn good. It scratched an itch you’d been trying to get all day. 

He wrapped his hands around your hips. His lip snarled as he pressed his head to yours. “Let go, baby. Be as loud as you fucking want.”

You breathed out a laugh. “And you guys think I’m a sex maniac.”

He pulled out and slammed back into you. Hard enough to force you up onto your toes. “I’ll never call you that again.”

He set a brutal pace then. Sam resembled nothing less than a wild animal in a rut. His fingers left bruises behind. His mouth, bite-marks. His hand slid back down to your clit and he growled against your skin when you cried out at his touch.

It was the most brutal yet satisfying quickie you’d ever had. Not to mention the most public. At one point, you could have sworn you’d seen a flash of blonde hair from the door. That, ultimately, is what had made you cum. The knowledge that one of the women who’d been trying to get Sam in bed all day had just walked in on him fucking you like you were God’s gift to mankind.

When you were both finished, he calmed significantly. His touch gentle enough that you would have thought he was a completely different man if you didn’t already know what he was like. 

“You okay?” he said as he brushed your hair back from your face. His jeans were back in order, as were your shorts. For the last minute or so he’d been giving you lingering kisses while he hummed in content. 

You smiled. “I’m fine. And that … was pretty incredible.”

“Yeah it was. Never thought I’d be much of an exhibitionist.”

“I’m just a bad influence.”

He grinned and pressed another kiss to your lips as his arm went around your waist. “You’re the best influence.”

That’s when you heard the scream. It was Olivia. Detective Howard had been drowned in the toilet.

**** 

“Well, we got a floater,” Dean said as the three of you and the LaCroix family gathered in one of the upstairs bathrooms.

“Drowned in a toilet? How filthy,” Heddy said.

Beverly shook her head in distress. “What kind of monster would do such a thing?” She and Heddy turned to look at Olivia who remained near the door.

“Don’t look at me. I was just trying to pee,” Olivia said.

“Okay,” Dean said, “hold on. Before we start pointing fingers –”

Heddy turned on Amber with determination. “Amber has motive. She killed the detective because she knew that it was just a matter of time before he figured out she killed Stan.”

Dash rolled his eyes and clapped his hands together. “Bravo Rizzoli! You solved the case.” He looked at Beverly. “Want to weigh in too, Isles?”

“I didn’t kill Stanton or the detective. And I have proof,” Amber said. “My alibi is in this room.”

Dean chuckled and looked down at you. “Ooh, wait for it.”

“Amber couldn’t have killed the detective,” Dash said as he stepped up beside Amber, “’cause she was with me.” He took up her hand. “We’re in love.”

You snorted, not believing it for a second. 

Amber pulled a face. “We’re sleeping together.”

Beverly jabbed a finger in their direction. “I knew it.”

“Well then you have motive too,” Heddy said as she turned to Dash. “You offed Stan because you were diddling his wife.”

Dash groaned. “The old lady doth protest too much. You’re only pointing the finger to distract from your own guilt. And you probably got Baby Jane to help.”

“Well I never!” Beverly cried. “I’m leaving.”

“All right, hang on,” Dean said as he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “First of all, who talks like that? Second of all, no one’s leaving, okay?”

Beverly smiled and grabbed Dean’s coat. She leaned in against him. “Ohh, get your hands off me young man.”

“Hey. Back off, lady,” you snapped as you pushed her back. 

Dean scowled and brushed off his coat when she let go. “Okay, see - I don’t trust anyone. And leaving just makes you look guilty.”

“Dean is right, okay,” Sam said. “We have four corpses now.”

“Four corpses?” Amber said. 

“Yeah. You can add Phillip and Colette to the list,” you said.

Heddy frowned. “Clown college Colette? But I thought she …”

“She’s dead! Alright, she’s dead. Dean found her earlier.”

“And we can’t help you unless you stop arguing with one another,” Sam said. “You need to trust us.”

Dash narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. “Trust you? Uh, we don’t even know you. Look buddy, I’m trying to be objective here, but we’ve had countless family functions before, and even though we wanted to kill one another, we never did.”

Heddy nodded, coming to the same, unfortunate conclusion that her cousin did. “Dash is right. Our get-togethers never end in murder. The only thing different this time around is you three.”

Dean lifted his hands in defence. You all took a step back. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. First of all, whoa. Whatever you’re suggesting …”

Before Dean got a chance to finish, Dash swooped down and took up the detective’s gun. He aimed it in your general direction. “You three! Let’s go. Don’t even think about it. I …. hunt pheasant.” You and Dean shared an eyeroll. 

The room that he locked the three of you in looked to be some sort of security base. It was filled with monitors with security camera footage. Dean tried prying open the lock with the silver butter knife he’d grabbed earlier … which ended up bending because it wasn’t actually silver.

“Freaking stainless steel,” Dean growled as he tossed it to the floor. 

“So that’s why no one sizzled? They’re not even real silver?” Sam said. 

“First cubic zirconium and now this. No wonder the rich stay rich. How we gonna kill this thing?”

“We got silver bullets in the trunk,” you said.

“Yeah, assuming we ever make it out of here.”

 

You ran a hand through your hair and Dean began rifling through draws. 

“Guys. You gotta see this,” Sam said.

He was over by one of the monitors. A monitor which showed the feed from the lounge room. The family had gathered there. They all stood, staring at Olivia. She had the detective’s gun.

“We got played by the maid,” you said.

Dean swore under his breath then threw himself at the door. You helped Sam go through the cabinets on the other side of the room. After a few misses, you finally found a set of keys that worked on a gun safe in the next cabinet over. 

From there things rolled along quick. You went with Dean to get the silver bullets while Sam kept Olivia as far away from the rest of the family as possible. He ended up being trapped in the corner of the kitchen, Olivia gaining on him, when Dean burst through first and emptied his clip in her. 

It was excessive, and a look from Sam showed he thought so too, but it hadn’t seemed wise to say anything in the moment. You didn’t miss the way his mouth twisted just that little bit when he looked at you, though. The way his eyes flashed with that old resentment he swore he could never feel towards you again. 

He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight. Just like you’d promised him – you squeezed back. 

****

When the shock had settled and the last of the family made their way out of the house, Sam informed you and Dean that Olivia had been Bunny’s illegitimate daughter. Bobby had killed her shifter father and spared Olivia so long as Bunny kept her locked up. Olivia never really got over that deal.

Dash was on the phone, calling the police – Amber by his side – Beverly and Heddy were gushing over what happened, so, you and the brothers took the opportunity to slip away quietly. As you were heading down the stairs behind them, though, Dash called out to you.

“Police are on the way,” he said when you stopped and turned to him. “What a mess. I owe you all an apology.”

You shrugged and looked back at Sam and Dean. They stood a little way back but not so far that they couldn’t hear what was going on. 

“Don’t sweat it,” you said. “I mean, you were just protecting your family and … there’s nothing wrong with that.”

He nodded. “So, I spoke to Aunt Bunny’s attorney. He said aside from the pendant, everything was left to Olivia.”  
“Hey, you know what?” Dean said as he came up behind you and pulled the pendant out of his pocket. He held it out to Dash. “Speaking of that … you guys should keep it. It’s a key to the attic.”

“Bobby must have really meant something to Aunt Bunny,” Dash said as he took it. “How can we repay you?”

“You know what?” Dean shook his head. “Just forget we were ever here.”

Dash’s brow furrowed. “But you saved our lives. I want everyone to know what heroes you …”

“Look,” you said, “the fact that we pulled your bacon out of the fire is nobody’s business. Okay?” He didn’t seem convinced of that. You stepped forward and jabbed him in the shoulder. “I’m serious Izod. Put a pin in it. Or we’ll come back for your preppy ass.”

****

The three of you were on the road. Your head on Sam’s shoulder, your feet up on the dash, Dean’s hand on your thigh.

You could feel Sam tense beneath you, knew this was the moment he’d bring it up.

“Dean,” he said, “what was that all about back there?”

“What are you talking about?” Dean said. You turned your eyes to him.

“I mean … all those extra shots after the shifter was already dead. What was that?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Target practice?” 

Sam sighed. “Come on, man. I’m serious. You sure it wasn’t … I don’t know, demon residue or something to do with the mark, or …”

Dean shook his head profusely and tapped your thigh. He was anxious, you could tell. “No. No, none of that.”

Sam was silent for a whole five seconds. “Right. Look man, I got to be honest –”

“Oh my God, Sam,” Dean said with an incredulous look at his brother. “It was my first kill since I’ve been back. You know, I got a little anxious. I wanted to make sure it was done right – plain and simple. Its … why am I even explaining this to you?”

He blasted the stereo before Sam could say a word. You pressed your lips together and slid your hand into Sam’s. He tangled his fingers with yours and squeezed. 

You squeezed back.


	56. Girls, Girls And Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hear word that demons have gotten into the sex trade, but when you start digging around you unearth an ancient witch instead. Just as you're about to bag her, Cole makes another untimely visit.

You sighed as you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror of the motel you were staying in. You tried to pull up the low neckline of the tight dress you were wearing, but the push-up bra only forced your breasts above it. 

As a woman who lived in her husbands’ flannels, heels and lace panelling in tight dresses were not for you. Not at this point in your life anyway. 

“Why the hell do I have to do this again?” you groaned as you twisted and turned. 

“Me and Sammy went the last few times, baby. Someone’s gonna catch on if they see us enough,” Dean said from the other side of the bathroom door. “We gotta switch it up.”

“I never thought I’d have to Miss Congeniality my way into a brothel,” you said as you smoothed your hands over the dress again.

“Hey, now. Sandra Bullock’s got nothing on you.”

With a smile, you rolled your eyes and went to the door. Dean stepped back when you pulled it open. His brows shot to his hairline.

“Holy … Christ, baby. You’ve been holding out on us.”

“You’re kidding, right? You’ve seen me naked a bajillion times.”

“Well, yeah, but …” he held his hands up, thumbs spread out as though he were framing your dress between them, “there’s something about a woman in a tight dress. Nothing compares.”

The motel door opened then and Sam barged through. “Dean, I couldn’t find – woah.”

Dean spread his arms wide and turned to look at his awestruck brother. “Right?!”

“Where – uh, where’d you get that … dress.”

You shrugged and looked down at it. “Thrift store.”

Sam drew in a deep breath. His eyes swept over you as he nodded. “Right. Okay. It’s … nice.”

“Nice?” Dean growled. “She looks like a freakin’ centre fold for Playboy.” He turned back to you with an appreciative look. “Hugh Hefner can bite my ass. I’m married to a porn star.”

You rolled your eyes. Sam cleared his throat. “Uh, Dean. She’s meant to be picking up an escort. Don’t you think she’s gonna attract a bit more … attention than that.”

“I sure as hell hope so,” you said. “We’ve been chasing this rumour for weeks. I’m getting kind of sick of watching you guys hit on prostitutes. I wanna find the damn demon behind it and ask what the hell Crowley’s thinking getting into the sex trade. ‘S’just tacky.”

“And here I thought you were all for the working woman. No matter her profession,” Dean said.

“I am. Especially escorts. It’s just not Crowley’s gig.”

“Well, we’ll find out soon enough,” Sam said.

****

You pushed Shaylene up against the wall of the motel. You hiked her thigh up to your waist, careful to keep your lips from touching hers. Sam and Dean had been clear that heavy petting was okay to get her into the room and strike a deal. But anything further was a no go. It was fair considering they barely laid a hand on the escorts they sussed out. 

The three of you were sure this time that she was the one. Too many customers left her with cash-lined wallets and satisfied grins. 

“I forgot something,” she said as she traced her finger over your bottom lip. “We still need to discuss my terms.”

You knew what she was talking about, but you needed her to say the words. Needed to know for sure before you traumatised the poor girl. 

You let your lips curl up in a smile. “Oh, like, rules? Like, sexy rules?”

She pushed you back and let her foot drop back to the ground. “Um, more an issue of payment.”

You let your smile drop a bit. “Right. Forgot all about that.”

She hummed and stepped forward. Trailed a finger over the top of your breasts. “I’m sure you did.”

“See I got this thing,” you said. “No cash for ass.”

The corner of her mouth lifted just the slightest in contempt. You felt bad, you knew she probably had this problem with customers a million times before – everyone wanted a service but no one wanted to pay for it – but you needed to know.

She recovered her flirtatious smile quickly. “Well you're in luck, honey, 'cause I don't want your money.” She rested her hands on your waist and leaned into you. “All I want from you is one little thing --a trifle, really.”

“I'm listening,” you murmured as you let your eyes drop to her lips. 

“Your soul.”

You had her. “My soul?”

She laughed and stepped back to lean against the wall. “It's nothing, baby. Who knows what a soul is, really, if it even exists? All I know is you say yes, my guy comes up, you sign some papers, and then it's you and me --good to go.”

You hummed and nodded as you stepped back and looked over the motel room. “So that's it? Just ... sign over my life.”

She shrugged. “It's a signature, baby.” You turned to face her and she writhed her body against the wall. “What's a little paperwork compared to absolute physical bliss?”

You lifted your shoulder in a half-shrug, smiled a little. She was good. “Well, you make a strong case.”

She grinned. “I love my job.”

She wasn’t that good. “Do you?”

Her smile faltered as you approached her. “Yeah.”

“’Cause it doesn't look like love to me.”

From there it should’ve been a cake walk. Sam and Dean came to the room when you texted them. You explained to Shaylene what was going on. Then when her demon pimp showed up to get you to sign your soul away, she stabbed him. 

You had to admit, none of you saw it coming. But you should have.

“Okay. Well, that just happened,” Dean said as he stared down at the body. 

“Yeah, and he was our best shot at the location of the brothel,” Sam said, his hands out to his sides in frustration. “Do you have any idea where it is?”

Shaylene shook her head. “No, but, um ...” She crouched down beside the body and rifled through his pockets a moment before pulling out a business card. She handed it to you. “I saw him give these out at the bars.”

“Raul’s Girls,” you read. You looked up at the brothers. “Guess it’s a start.”

****

You got there too late. The brothel was empty except for two dean men. One of which was lying in a puddle of black goop. 

“Can't believe somebody got to kill this Raul tool before we could,” Dean said as he went to look over the bar. “Check I.D.s.”

Sam knelt by the body covered with black goop while you inspected the other one. "Uh, Dean,” he said, “from the look and ... smell of it, pure demon. I think this is Raul.”

“What? Did he puke himself to death?”

“Yeah, literally.”

“Okay,” you said as you looked around, “so ... something went down here. There was a standoff. One demon smokes out and Raul ... what can even kill a demon like this?”

Sam looked down at the body a moment then pressed his lips together as he reached down to Raul’s hand. “Apparently ... a witch.” He held up a hex bag. 

You shook your head. “Crowley doesn’t know about this,” you said.

“You think B1 and B2 went behind his back?” Dean said. 

You shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe they were trying to be proactive. Impress him by upping their soul count. Whatever it was … it’s too messy for Crowley to have a hand in. Sex trade is one thing. But forced prostitution? After what I went through? He’s evil but … he wouldn’t risk me finding out about something like this. He knows I wouldn’t forgive him for it.”

****

You and Sam managed to track down the spell used to kill Raul. It was old and powerful and hadn’t been used in over 300 years. It was known only by one witch. The one who created it – Rowena. 

From there, you tracked down another odd, witch-like death. In a high-end restaurant, some waiter looked like he’d been boiled from the inside out. 

You sent Dean in to suss it out while you and Sam stayed outside to call up a few nearby hunters and see what they knew about any more weird deaths. 

Dean came back out just as Sam finished up with the last one. “So, it looks like our witch was here with two new friends,” he said.

“Really? Raul's girls?” Sam said. “What does she want with them?”

Dean tucked his hands into his pockets. “I don't know. What'd you get from the Hunter network?”

“This guy Darrell's been working a case,” you said as you slapped your phone against the palm of your hand, “a series of grisly hotel murders one at the Kensington, another at the Waldorf in Cleveland -- bodies stabbed, impaled on the ceiling.”

“Sounds a little more homicidal maniac than witchy.”

“That's what Darrell thought, too, until the autopsy came back. Actual cause of death –”

“Let me guess” Dean said, “boiled brains.”

“Same as our waiter,” Sam said.

“Well, I'll give this to the witch -- she's got deep pockets. The Kensington, the Waldorf, this restaurant -- that can't be cheap.”

“Yeah. Let's get,” you said as you stood and started down the street.

“Where we going?”

You grinned over your shoulder at them. “Check out every five-star hotel in the area.”

****

Two demons beat you to the chase. They seemed more organised this time. Determined. Surer of themselves. You knew these ones had been sent by Crowley to clean up the mess Raul had made. You almost hated killing them and screwing up his plan, but you figured if he wanted the witch so bad, he could come to you to get her. 

Not that you ended up taking down the fiery, surprisingly short, red-head anyway. She sent one of her minions after you with a spell that turned her into some blood-hungry animal. Dean chased her out into the alley while Sam took care of the entranced escort. 

You caught up with Dean and Rowena just in time to see the other escort jab the witch in the nose and run off. Dean had his gun on her and all seemed to be going right for once, but of course, luck doesn’t stick around for long. Eventually, something had to go wrong. 

That something was Cole. The man you and Dean had beaten to a bloody pulp when he was a demon and you were … well, none of you really knew what had happened to you. Or where your strength had come from. All that mattered now was that you weren’t that person anymore. As long as Dean kept the Mark under wraps. 

But Cole didn’t know that. He had his gun aimed at Dean’s head. You had yours gun aimed at Cole’s. Rowena grinned.

“Pal, we got to work on your timing,” Dean said.

“Drop the gun, Dean-o,” Cole said.

You adjusted your grip. Steadied your aim to the middle of his forehead. “Why don’t you.”

He glanced at you. “Right here. Right now. I got nothing to lose, sweetheart. Seems to me like you got a helluva lot.”

Dean’s jaw ticked. “Alright, she may not look like much, but letting this one go -- big mistake.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You heard the boy,” Rowena said. 

Dean growled low in his throat as he dropped his gun to the ground. Rowena smirked and turned on her heel. A part of you knew you should have turned your aim to her when she walked away. But another part – the dominant part – reminded you that Dean was more important. And right now, he had a gun aimed at him.

“You too, sweetheart,” Cole said. “Or you boyfriend doesn’t leave this alley today.”

You didn’t listen. Dean held a hand out towards you. “Baby. Do what he says. Drop the gun.”

You ground your teeth together. “I can take him.”

“Y/N,” Dean snapped. “I don’t care. No one is dying here today. Put it down.” You twisted your lips in anger and did as he demanded. “No matter what happens, he leaves here alive. You understand?”

You looked at him but said nothing. He knew what pride felt like. Knew how bad you needed it. He wasn’t going to demean you by making you say yes. You weren’t his child. You were his wife. The fact you listened was a sign of respect not obedience. He couldn’t demand that. He would never try.

He turned his attention back to Cole who adjusted his grip. “Look, man, I am sorry about the last time we met, okay? I'm sorry about a lot of things. I'm not the same person that I was.”

“You're not a person at all,” Cole said as he reached into his coat. “See, I know all about your kind now.”

“My kind? Listen –” He got a face full of holy water. He wasn’t impressed. Cole’s brow furrowed at the lack of reaction. He tossed his flash to the side. “I'm not a demon anymore.”

“So, were you a demon when you murdered my father?”

Dean’s jaw ticked. “No.”

“Then you're still a monster.” 

He rushed forward and struck Dean’s face with the butt of his gun. As he pulled back, Dean grabbed his hands to control the gun. You stepped back, remembering Dean’s words about not hurting Cole. But your silent promise only stretched so far, and the more hits Dean took – the more tired he got – the better breaking your promise looked.

After a particularly nasty jab to the nose, Dean stumbled back and shook his head in a daze. His feet dragged, his fists lowered. He was getting tired. 

Cole went forward to strike again. You stepped in, vaguely heard Dean call your name, and used Cole’s momentum to roll him over your shoulder and throw him to the ground. You pressed your knee into his chest as he gasped for breath. 

When he recovered, he gripped the back of your shirt and you braced yourself to roll with him when he inevitably pulled you down … but then he didn’t. 

“Don’t,” Dean growled.

You looked up to find him standing over the two of you, his gun back in hand and trained on Cole. You stood.

“What are you waiting for?” Cole said as the two of you looked down at him. “Do it.”

“No,” Dean said as he lowered the gun. “Now, I'm gonna clean this mess up once and for all. You're gonna give me five minutes, and we're gonna talk. Get up.” Coles face blanked with confusion but he got to his feet nonetheless. “After that ... if you don't like what you hear ... you still want me dead, you take your shot.”

He turned the handle of his gun in Cole’s direction and held it out.

“Dean,” you said, your voice shaking. You reached for the gun as Cole did, but Dean grabbed your wrist and held your arm down. 

He looked down at you. “It’s okay,” he said. “Remember what I said. He leaves today. No matter what happens.”

“No,” you snapped as you shook your head. You turned your attention back to Cole who now had Dean’s gun aimed at the both of you. “You put a bullet in him, and you better hope you kill me too. ‘Cause I’ll hunt you down and gut you like a pig.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Cole said.

“I’m not like, Sam,” you snarled. “I don’t have a guilty conscience. I won’t stop at you. Bet your daughter’s head would look real nice –”

“Y/N. Stop!”

Dean yanked on your arm to shut you up. Cole’s face was red with anger. His knuckles white from how hard he gripped the gun.

“Screw you, Winchester,” you growled. “I’m not –”

“Please. It’s not his fault.” You clenched your teeth together. So tight you thought they might crack. He looked back up at Cole. “What I do – what we do – is hunt monsters. Your dad, Cole -- your dad was a monster.”

“Yeah, you say that now, but last time we fought, you couldn't even remember his name,” Cole growled.

“2003, Nyack, New York, Ed Trenton. I was working a case. Three dead --livers ripped out and eaten by your father.”

Cole swallowed. “Livers?”

“Yeah, I tracked him down that night to your house.”

“Well, you say he was a monster. What kind of monster was he?” 

Dean shook his head. “I don't know. Never seen that kind before, never seen it again. All I know is that he came home that night looking to kill -- could've been you, could've been your mom.”

“No.”

“The only reason that didn't happen is because I was there to stop him.”

“I heard his voice,” Cole snapped, his eyes welling up. “It was a human voice, and he begged you to stop!”

“It's a ploy,” Dean growled. “It's a monster's trick. I know what you heard, but know this -- that was not your father, Cole. Your father was already gone.”

Dean’s gaze shifted over Cole’s shoulder to find Sam coming up behind him, his gun raised. Dean pointed at him, his other hand still wrapped around your wrist. “Put it down. Sam, put it down!”

Cole looked over his shoulder at the new threat before securing his aim once more on Dean, ready to take him down if Sam pulled the trigger.

“Cole, it's fine,” Dean said.

“Dean?” Sam called.

“Put it down!”

There was a moment of hesitation, but Sam lowered his gun.

“Cole, hey, right here,” Dean said. “We're talking, okay?”

“How can I believe you, huh?” Cole said. “How can I believe you?! My whole life, I've been ...”

Dean nodded. “I get it. That was your story. Look, man, I got one of those, too. Okay, but those stories that we tell to keep us going? Man, sometimes they blind us. They take us to dark places --the kind of place where I might beat the crap out of a good man just for the fun of it. The people who love me,” he looked down at you, “they pulled me back from that edge.” He looked back up. “Cole, once you touch that darkness ... it never goes away. Now, the truth is ... I'm past saving.”

Your heart dropped. “Dean …”

“I know how my story ends. It's at the edge of a blade or the barrel of a gun. So, the question is, is that gonna be today? That gonna be that gun?”

“Dean. No,” you said. You struggled against his hold but his grip only tightened. 

“You've got a family, Cole,” Sam said. “I heard you on the phone that night. I'm guessing they need you to come back, and they need you to come back whole.”

You struggled again. “You won’t have a family to go back to if you pull that trigger right now,” you snarled. 

Cole’s eyes dropped to you. You could feel the tears streaming down your face but you refused to look at him with anything but venom and a promise of vengeance. 

He lowered the gun. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” 

“You’ve got no idea,” you said.

He handed the gun back to Dean.

****

Cole was well on his way home and Rowena was in the wind. Sam was just climbing into the Impala when you rounded on Dean.

“What you said earlier, back there, about being past saving –”

“I was just telling the guy what he needed to hear,” Dean said.

“Bullshit,” you growled. “You don’t get to feel that way. You don’t get to say those things. I was right there with you. By your side the whole way and I wasn’t a demon. I wasn’t possessed by some ancient curse. I did those things of my own free will. I followed you because I wanted to. So, if you’re past saving then what the hell does that make me?”

He gave you a sad smile and cupped your face in his hands. “It makes you my wife.”


	57. The Nightmares We Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been overtired lately - a mild form of your symptoms making an appearance - and Dean has been suffering from his nightmares in near silence. Sam has tried to cut down on the caseload because of it, but when Cas calls with a sudden emergency involving Claire Novak, his vessel's daughter, you can't turn him down.

Dean shot up in bed with a shout. His skin was slick with sweat. His chest heaved. He looked around his room in the bunker but it felt like his nightmare was superimposed over the top of it. There was a dead body in the corner, then he’d blink and it was just your boots. He was holding a bloodied knife, then he’d blink and it was just his hand rubbing over the Mark.

He heaved out a deep breath and willed his heart rate to slow. He felt the tendrils of darkness reaching for his mind. He turned to you, knowing just a touch of your skin could scare them away, but you were asleep. He went to reach for you anyway. 

Then he stopped. He remembered the last few days. You were amid an episode. It was minor – no attempts of self-harm and no nightmares – but every so often your gaze would blank and it was like you weren’t seeing what was in front of you anymore. Like your nightmares had made it into your reality. It was taking it out of you. Sam toned down on the caseload just so you could sleep more. 

You’d asked him not to. You hated disrupting the flow of things. Hated that someone out there could be dying because you were too tired to go out and do something about it. Sam said he wouldn’t, but Dean knew he was glossing over the big stuff – delegating it to other hunters close to the area.

He laid back down on his side and watched your face. You looked so calm and peaceful. Free from everything fucked up in your life. He wanted that peace. He could have it right now. All he had to do was wrap you up in his arms and breath in your scent – he could take your peace as his own. You’d let him, he knew that, but you’d had so much taken from you over the years. He refused to take from you something as simple as peace.

And yet, you found a way to amaze him. As though there was a visceral connection between the two of you, your eyes fluttered open and you lifted a hand to cup his cheek. 

“You’re awake,” you whispered. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes shut as the warmth of your hand chased away the remnants of his nightmare.

“I need you.” His voice was raspy and weak when the words fell from his mouth. It wasn’t that he needed your body or your touch – he needed your strength. He needed to know he wasn’t alone in this. That you were just as scared as he was but you could get through. And if you could get through it, so could he. 

“I’m right here,” you said. Then your lips were on his and he wondered, for the umpteenth time since he met you, what the hell he had done to deserve someone like you. 

When you rolled him to his back and pulled the sheet from your naked bodies, he cupped your face in his hands and looked at you. 

“You’re too tired,” he said.

You gave him a soft smile and kissed the palm of his hand. “I’m never too tired for you.”

He didn’t believe that, but he appreciated your effort more than you would ever know. So, he took it easy on you. He rolled you to your stomach, slipped a pillow under your hips and told you to relax. 

“What did I do to deserve this,” you laughed when he pressed his thumbs into the tight muscles of your back. 

He kissed the back of your shoulder. “You love me. That’s good enough to deserve the whole world, baby.”

When you were lax beneath him, your eyes hooded with content, he made his way down your body and slid his tongue through your folds. You moaned and tilted your hips up for him. 

In true Dean form, he took his time with you. Dragged his teeth over your outer flesh. Sucked your inner folds into his mouth. Swirled his tongue around your clit. He listened to your breathing. Felt the movement of your hips. He was careful not to get you worked up too quickly, but he didn’t leave you hanging. He wasn’t in the mood for teasing, he just wanted to make you feel all the pleasure you made him feel daily – just by existing. 

You breathed out his name. He felt you try to reach back for him so he grabbed both your hands in his and squeezed. You squeezed back. And as many problems as he had with the guy, Dean thanked God every day that you had made that promise. 

You tilted your hips up even more and pushed back against his mouth with a groan. You were getting impatient. You wanted to feel that tight coil snap deep in your cunt. Wanted it to radiate from your centre. 

He gave you exactly what you wanted. He would give you everything he had if he could. 

Your teeth sank into the pillow beneath your head. Dean’s hands stung when your nails dug into his flesh. He’d never loved pain so much.

****

You smiled as Dean’s laughter echoed through the library. Sam chuckled – the two of you making your way up the steps.

“What are you laughing at?” Sam said as he sat perpendicular to Dean. 

“Oh, hey,” Dean said as he paused the episode of The Three Stooges he was watching. “Hang on. You gotta see — this is a classic.” 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Oh, yeah. Better than ever.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, knowing he was embellishing for Sam’s sake, and then put the grilled cheese you made in front of him.

“Oh, hello, beautiful,” he groaned as he pulled it apart and took a bite.

You scoffed. “You want some alone time with that thing?”

His cheeks were filled with food as he looked up at you and slapped your ass. “Only if you wanna join.”

You shook your head and moved to Sam with a smile. He returned your grin and pulled you into his lap. 

“Mornin’,” he murmured. 

You hummed and gave him a long kiss. The three of you spent a solid half-hour in blissful peace, laughing over an old show. All seemed well with your less than normal world – and then Cas called with an emergency.

****

The three of you stood outside a restaurant with Cas. He hadn’t given much detail, but apparently, he’d decided to track down Jimmy Novak’s daughter – Claire. 

Unfortunately, it hadn’t gone at all how he’d hoped it would – she’d made a runner on him but not before she robbed him. A part of you wondered how he hadn’t learned from his reunion with you a few years ago – but he was Cas, and he was your friend, and he was blissfully unaware of how humans, let alone teenage girls, thought. 

“This is why you called us?” Dean growled. “This is your emergency?”

Cas stretched his arms out to the side. “Yes!”

“No, Cas! An emergency is a dead body, okay? Or—or a wigged-out angel, or the Apocalypse, take three. Some chick bolting on you is not an emergency. That’s … that’s every Friday night for Sam.”

“Dude,” Sam said. 

Dean sighed. “My jokes were funnier when you were single,” he muttered. 

“This isn’t just ‘some chick’,” Cas said. “I’m responsible for her.”

“Since when? You met her once, how many years ago?”

You rolled your eyes. “Dean. Stop. How many times has Cassie dropped everything to help us?” You squeezed the angel’s arm and smiled up at him. “Of course, we’ll help you.”

He gave you a soft smile and his thanks. You leaned into him and looked at Sam when he began putting in his two cents.

“Look, Cas,” he said. “Even if we do find Claire … then what?”

“She rolled you,” Dean said, “and then she ran, okay? It’s pretty clear that she doesn’t want to play house.”

“We should at least make sure she’s safe,” you said. “Wouldn’t you have wanted someone to make sure I was safe when I was her age?”

Sam crumbled beneath your words. “Of course,” he said, his voice soft and pliant to your will. You might have felt guilty for using his weakness against him, but he wasn’t scared to use the puppy eyes on you when it suited him – this was fair play as far as you were concerned. 

Dean, on the other hand, was harder to crack. He could see through you. And yet … he didn’t fight you. In fact, he took one look at you and fell apart. His shoulders sagged, the scowl was wiped from his face. 

“Fine,” he said. 

Keeping your eyes locked with his resolute ones, you walked forward, cupped his face in your hands and pushed up on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his mouth.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and his eyes softened. “Now, me and Cas are gonna stick here in case she circles back. You guys go ahead.”

You turned on your heel and headed off towards the restaurant before any of them could say anything.

“Baby,” Dean called. He growled when you kept walking. “Sammy –”

“I know,” Sam said. “But she hasn’t seen him in a while.”

Cas’s brow furrowed. “A-Are you referring to me?”

“Yes, we’re talking about you,” Dean growled. Sam’s jaw ticked but he said nothing when Cas looked at him. “Look. Just keep your love eyes to yourself.”

Cas’s chest tightened with anger. “Dean, you asked me to watch her when she left you both. You were perfectly fine with me being alone with her then.”

“You were the lesser evil.”

“Dean,” Sam said.

“If you think,” Cas growled, “I would ever jeopardise Y/N’s happiness to confess my own feelings – to fulfil my own selfish needs – you underestimate just how much I love her. I am not you.”

“Why don’t you say what you really think?” Dean snapped.

“Fine. You have a long history of choosing what you want over what she needs.”

“Guys,” Sam snapped when Dean took a step forward. “Do we really wanna do this here?” 

He nodded towards the entrance of the restaurant. Dean and Cas followed his eyes. You stood at the top of the steps waiting for Cas. You were far enough away that you couldn’t hear them, but the scowl on Dean’s face inspired a curious look on yours. 

Cas turned back. “No,” he said, and then he left. 

In the restaurant, you and Cas found a seat and made your orders. You didn’t ask him why Dean had been so angry, and he was grateful for that. In fact, you didn’t say much until your burgers were delivered. 

In an effort to forget about the argument, he picked up a ketchup bottle from the table and studied it intently as he remembered something Claire had told him.

“Is ketchup a vegetable?” he said.

“Hell, yes,” you said with a mouthful of food. “All right, so spill. What’s with the family reunion?”

He sighed and set down the ketchup. “I don’t know. I’ve just been … thinking about people.” 

With a quick glance around the restaurant, you reached over and swiped Cas’s burger from his plate, setting it down on yours.

“No problem,” Cas continued. “I’ve helped some, but I’ve … I’ve hurt some.”

You nodded. “So, you’re having a midlife crisis.”

“Well, I’m extremely old. I think I’m entitled.”

You put your burger down and looked at him. “Cassie, listen to me. There’s some stuff you just got to let go. Okay? The people you let down, the ones you can’t save … you got to forget about them. For your own good.”

He gave you a thoughtful look. “Is that what you do?”

You snorted. “That’s the opposite of what I do. But I’m not exactly a role model.”

He gave you a pitiful look. “That’s not true.”

You laughed in disbelief. “Yeah.”

There was silence for a moment. Then he asked the dreaded question, “How are you, Y/N?”

“Fine.” He gave you a look. “I’m great!”

“No, you’re not.”

You felt your resolve falter. “Yeah, well, I’m not a psycho bitch anymore, so that’s a plus.”

Cas pressed his lips together. “Is the Mark of Cain still affecting you?”

You sighed and leaned back in your chair. Suddenly, your appetite didn’t seem so ravenous. “It’s not on my arm, Cassie. It’s on Dean’s.”

He nodded. “Yes, but … recent events have shown that it affects you too.”

“Really?” you said. Your patience was wearing thin. “Because yours and Crowley’s theories say something different.”

He leaned towards you. “And they were just that. Theories. Look … a part of me still believes that you have some sort of psychologically adaptive qualities. That you take on the strongest personalities around you.”

“That I don’t have my own identity. My own personality. My own wants or needs,” you growled.

“No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?!”

A couple at a nearby table sent the both of you a dirty look. You didn’t even have it in you to apologise for the outburst. You just sighed and pushed your fingers through your hair. 

Cas’s voice was gentle when he said, “Y/N, you are undoubtedly yourself. You are not some puppet. What I believe is … whoever put you here – whoever made you – they must have known God wouldn’t accept that. So maybe your adaptive qualities are survival instincts. Maybe it’s your way of staying psychologically intact as you suffer the trauma each of your lives brings.”

You scoffed. “You think I’m psychologically intact? Did you forget who you were talking to, Cassie? Did you forget that you and Dean found me half-dead, covered in my own vomit?” He flinched. “Just how psychologically intact am I meant to be?”

“With all due respect, Y/N … you weren’t made to be a human. You were an angel first. Whilst angels don’t experience emotions or – or psychological impulses the way humans do, we can still crack. Lucifer, Abaddon, Cain. They’re all examples of what happens to angels when trauma breaks them. They went insane. They tried to annihilate the world. The only thing that stopped them was you.”

“I didn’t stop Abaddon,” you murmured as you picked at your burger.

“You did,” Cas insisted. “Then she lost you and her insanity returned. I don’t know exactly what happened with Lucifer, but there have always been stories that maybe he went into the cage willingly. Or that, at the very least, he didn’t fight as hard as he could have. You’re the only person he would have gone into the cage for.”

“They’re just stories, Cas,” you said. “I heard all about what Lucifer was like when he left the cage. Sounded like he was pretty jaded about being in there.”

Cas leaned back in his chair. “My guess is, he found out that you weren’t an angel anymore. That you didn’t remember him. When God did that to you, Lucifer wouldn’t have had anything to stop him from starting the apocalypse. He wouldn’t have had anything to keep him in the cage. Sam may not remember, but he mentioned to me once that Lucifer felt like he was incomplete. Like he was constantly searching for something. We thought he was looking for God, but … I think he was looking for you, Y/N.”

You shifted in your seat, grateful only for the fact that Sam and Dean weren’t here to listen to this. After what happened with Gadreel and Abaddon … the thought of meeting another lover from a past life was daunting. In your experience, they either tried to kill you, or they broke your heart. 

“You were worried about the Mark. I don’t know what any of this has to do with it,” you said.

“You’re connected to the Mark,” Cas said. “It can influence you, but you’re also capable of influencing it. You could be the key to getting rid of it.”

“Cassie. No,” you snapped. “I am not the key to anything. I am not special. I’m just some freak of nature. Stop putting me on a pedestal. Please.”

He gave you a sad look. “Your existence is millennia old, and in every life you’ve had you have been at the centre of everything. You tried your best to keep your name out of the history books but you still seep through the cracks. Stories of resurrections. Of great women. Of evil people suddenly seeing the error of their ways. They are all about you.”

You jaw ticked and your fists clenched. “You’ve been researching me?”

He gave you an incredulous look. “Of course I have. I’m shocked that I’m the only one.”

“Because none of us want to know, Cas. You think I want to know how many lives I’ve lived? How many people I hurt? How many people are out there looking for me? How many died looking for me? I don’t want to be that important to someone. I don’t want to be special. To be the one thing that everyone relies on. I can’t even rely on myself.” You swiped at the tears on your cheeks and pushed your plate away from you. “I just want to be normal.”

He reached forward and squeezed your hand. “I don’t want to imagine what this world would have become if you were normal.”

****

When Sam and Dean asked questions at the detention centre Claire often stayed in, all they’d managed to find out was that she was close with an older boy who used to be there – Dustin Tate. He worked at The Weiner Hut. 

The four of you went to interrogate him, and it didn’t take much for him to spill the beans. He and Claire had been hanging around a guy that they saw as a surrogate dad. 

You knew the con well. An older criminal who wanted to avoid jail time would take kids with issues under his wing and make them do all the work for him. They’d only end up in juvie if they got caught, and they weren’t likely to rat on him out of loyalty or fear. Or both. 

The guy’s name was Randy, and it sounded like he’d gotten in bad with a loan shark and was getting Claire to pickpocket the money from people. Unfortunately for him, she was getting busted one too many times and sent back to the detention centre. Which meant he needed a lot of money by that same night. 

Dustin said the only way he could do that was if Claire held up a convenience store. 

You were the one who stopped her. Cas wanted to do it, but you’d been in her shoes before. You knew how scared she was right now. How determined. You knew how foreign that gun would feel in her hand. The cold of the metal would feel alien. 

It wasn’t hard to spot her. Not only was she the only customer left in the store, but she was the only one with her hood pulled up and a bulging pocket with her hand tucked into it. 

You grabbed her wrist when she pulled the gun – kept it hidden from the clerk whose suspicious eyes were flitting in your direction. 

She gave you a hard look, but there was no disguising the fear in her eyes. “Trust me, kid, I’ve been in your shoes. Armed robbery will ruin your life, and I’m not talking jail time.”

She pressed her lips together. Her defiant look was so familiar you felt like you were looking in a mirror. You decided then you would do anything to protect her because you knew she needed someone. Someone who didn’t want to use her for anything. She just needed – wanted – someone to care about her unconditionally. She was you. 

Her teeth were clenched when she tried to yank her wrist from your grip. You didn’t let go. “Listen, lady –”

“I’m a friend of Castiel. You have two options. I can drag you out of here, or you can willingly leave with me because I’m the only person here who knows exactly what’s going through your head.”

You knew which option she would choose before you even gave them to her, but you knew she would respect that you gave her a choice. Maybe not yet, but she would. 

You ended up dragging her out to a waiting Cas and Winchesters.

“Claire, wait!” Cas said when you let her go and she began to walk off.

“Screw you,” she said as she pulled her hood off, revealing long, blonde, curly locks. 

“Whoa, hey, Miley Cyrus. Settle,” Dean said. 

“Eat me, Hasselhoff,” she snapped. You hid your smile behind a cough.

Sam stepped forward and lifted his hands to show he meant no harm. “Claire, hold on a second. Look, my name’s –”

“Sam. And you’re Dean. We’ve met, remember?” She turned to you with a curious look. “You’re new.”

The fact she even wanted to know your name was progress in your eyes. You never wanted to know anyone at her age. If they didn’t grab your attention, they meant nothing. 

“I’m Y/N,” you said.

“Claire,” Cas growled, pulling her eyes from you. “You were going to rob that convenience store?”

Her brow furrowed and hostility seeped back into her face. “So?”

He threw his hands up, at a loss with how to deal with the girl in front of him. “So? So … it’s—it’s wrong!”

“You want to talk to me about wrong?” she snapped. “You killed my dad. Is that ‘wrong’ enough for you?”

Cas swallowed, the guilt of Jimmy’s regrets weighed on him. “No, I didn’t.”

“Really? Because without you, he’d still be here. And my mom would still be around.”

He took a step towards her. “Claire, I’m –”

“Don’t!” She pulled her gun, cocked it, and pointed it at him.

He gave her a look of sorrow, a look you were all too familiar with. “That won’t hurt me.”

“Fine.” 

She turned the gun on you and you couldn’t say that you were surprised. You made her second guess herself in that store, even if it was just for a moment. You were a threat to her. A promise that she could have what she wanted. If she could take you out of the equation then she could hold onto her illusion of control. 

Sam and Dean stepped forward with growled words and worried faces. Cas’s face paled. You held your hand out to them as you stared at Claire. If she was going to pull the trigger, she was going to look you in the eye while she did it.

“She won’t shoot me,” you said. 

“You sure about that?” she said, more attitude in her voice than one girl could handle.

You shrugged. “No. I pulled the trigger at your age, but this is the moment where we find out if you’re better than me … or if you’re a carbon copy. You should know, though, if you shoot me, whether I live or die … that kind of thing never leaves you. You won’t leave here the same person. And you will never forget my face. You’ll always know that you’re capable of becoming a murderer.”

Her eyes welled up and her nose crinkled with frustration. “Yeah?” Her voice trembled. “And what the hell kind of faces do you remember?”

“The kind a child should never have to live with.”

Her gun arm wavered. Cas said her name and she used that as an excuse to lower it. She was unwilling to admit to herself that you’d gotten through to her.

“I used to pray to you, Castiel,” she said. “Every night. I would beg you to bring him home safe.”

Cas ducked his head. “I know.”

“You know …” she scoffed. “My father was a good man. In what messed up world does he have to die and you get to live?”

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head and ground out, “No. You feel guilty. There’s a difference.”

“So, what?” Sam said as he moved to your side. He tried to make it seem casual but no one there was fooled. He was preparing to put himself between you and Claire if she lifted the gun again. “Now you run back to Randy? The guy you steal for?”

Her scowl faltered. “How do you know about that?”

“Dustin,” Dean said.

“Claire, that man is using you,” Cas said.

“He was there for me,” she snapped. “When things got bad—and they got real damn bad—he was there when no one else was. He’s my family. And you’re just … you can go to hell.”

She left then, and Cas wasn’t even sure that he should go after her, let alone what he would say.

****

It had been decades since Crowley felt so tense. He was the King of Hell – the King of Hell didn’t get anxious. Yet here he was, and it was all because of her.

Rowena the witch – otherwise known as his mother. 

She stood before him in irons. Her nose in the air, proud as the day she left him.

“Fergus,” she said.

“Crowley!” he said.

If possible, she lifted her chin higher. “Fergus.” Her thick, Irish lilt curled around the name.

He couldn’t help it, he laughed. “So, you haven’t changed.”

She smiled. “But you certainly have. King of Hell, bravo. I always knew my boy was meant for big things.”

His brows raised. “Really? As I remember it, you said I would die in a gutter, covered in my own sick.”

She shook her head. “I was motivating you to do better, aim higher. And clearly, it worked.” He scoffed. “How did you die?”

His jaw ticked as he remembered. “The point is, you hated me.”

“Oh, please.”

“You said you’d be back in a flash. Then you disappeared. I was eight years old. Eight!”

“Oh, now you’re being dramatic.”

He leaned forward in his throne. His chest hot with rage. “I didn’t even have a father!”

“Of course you had a father!” she said. He waited with baited breath. She shrugged. “You were just conceived during a winter solstice orgy, and it’s not like I was taking names.” He fell back with a roll of his eyes. “What do you want me to say? I … I had a disagreement with the locals and when they set their hounds on me, I had to leave!”

“And never come back? For hundreds of years?”

She threw her hands up as best she could. The chains rattled. “But I’m here now! We have a second chance. We can be a real family again, Fergus.”

“Crowley! And I have a family.”

She snorted. “Who? The demons? Any one of them would stab you in the back if they thought they could get away with it.”

He ground his teeth together. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I have a daughter.”

Her mouth fell open and she pressed a hand to her chest. For a moment, Crowley wondered if she was truly happy by the news.

“I have a granddaughter? Oh, Fergus. You haven’t an idea what this means to me.” He rolled his eyes. She made her way up to him. “Truly. After all these years, we can finally be a family. I understand you’re angry. I understand you … hate me. And if you want to keep me locked away, then so be it. But understand that I’ll always be your mother. And I’ll always love you.”

****

After a long talk with Sam and Dean in a bar, listening to them reveal a fond memory they had of their own father, Cas decided he wasn’t done helping Claire.

The four of you tracked down Randy’s house and went in guns blazing, knowing the loan shark – a man that went by Salinger – was meant to be there that same night.

You couldn’t remember exactly how many men were there that night. All you remembered was Randy tied to a chair, and Salinger’s men frozen to the spot with Sam and Dean’s guns trained on them. Salinger was nowhere to be seen, nor was Claire. 

Then you heard a scream and you were legging it up the stairs. You were vaguely aware of someone following you, but when you kicked down the bedroom door at the top of the stairs and saw Salinger looming over Claire – saw your father looming over you – it didn’t matter if they were friend or foe. Because whether they were there to help or shoot you down, you were going to kill Salinger.

Cas was the one who pulled you off him. The loan shark’s face was bloodied and swollen but he could still move, and that wasn’t good enough for you. You wanted him dead. You wanted to collapse his lungs. Snap his ribs. Watch him wheeze and crawl until he couldn’t do either. 

You were prepared to make him drown in his own blood – and then you saw Claire. You saw fear in her eyes but it wasn’t towards you. She feared herself. Feared that she liked watching you try to kill a man. 

You saw in her face that she wasn’t as different from you as you’d hoped. It terrified you that you may have just ruined her one shot at becoming someone that wasn’t you. That you showed her how good revenge tasted on the tongue. How addictive it could be. 

But she would crash soon enough and you weren’t sure you could help her because you were still crashing yourself. Chasing that high. Taking that sweet vengeance by meting out your own skewed ideas of justice.

You were a fool to think you could save her. All you could offer her was a shortcut to your own hell. And a sick, twisted part of you wanted the company. 

The pause Claire gave you was enough for Cas to get you both out of the house. Sam followed and Dean was meant to bring up the rear, but when you reached the Impala your chest tightened and your stomach twisted. You stumbled against the car.

“Y/N. What’s wrong?” Sam said as he grabbed your arm to steady you. Cas and Claire were already sliding into the back seat. 

You felt a burning in your core. It felt a lot like rage but … different. Colder. Like how you felt when Dean was a demon.

“Something’s wrong,” you said. “Something’s wrong with the Mark. With Dean.”

There was commotion from the house. Shouts and screams. Sam’s head turned towards it and it was only then you realised Dean hadn’t left the house yet. It felt like the entire world slowed down when you both ran for the front door.

Dean slaughtered everyone in the house that night. Even Randy. You barged in to find him kneeling in the middle of the living room drenched in everyone’s blood but his own. Knife in hand. Lost look on his face. Marred bodies littered around him. 

Claire screamed but you barely registered that she was there. 

You found yourself on your knees in front of him. His face cupped in your hands. Blood seeping into the fabric of your jeans. Dread churned in your stomach and suddenly, you had to face the very real fear you had of losing control of yourself again. 

“Dean. Hey. Look at me,” you said. His eyes were somehow vacant and tormented all at the same time. “Tell me you had to do this.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t … I didn’t mean to.”

“No. Tell me it was them or you!” His eyes welled up as they focused on your face. “Please. We can’t – we can’t go back to what we were. I can’t be that thing again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

You had never heard an apology sound so empty.


	58. The Nightmare Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a loss of what to do about the Mark, Cas suggests the one thing none of you ever thought you would do - seek help from Metatron. Of course, things go wrong as they always do. Crowley has the Blade on hand, Metatron is taken back to heaven bloodied and beaten, and you're all left with no answers.

You were in Dean’s bed, straddling his lap. Your breasts pressed against his chest as they heaved with your pants. He was buried inside you. His arms wrapped around you as he moaned into your mouth. You thrust your hips against him, chasing that one thing you both craved since he pulled you out of Sam’s room that morning. 

“Slow down, baby,” he grunted, his hand tangling in your hair. “I don’t want to cum yet.”

You didn’t have to ask why. You’d seen it in his eyes when he woke you up. The Mark was getting to him, and he was desperate to fight it off. To stop his hands from shaking and his skin from burning. He needed you to do it. 

So, you slowed down. You rolled your hips, wrapped your arms around his neck. You went to press your forehead against his, but in true Dean fashion, he wanted to watch your face. 

He was an intimate lover. You hadn’t thought it when you first met him. Considering his escapades, you thought perhaps he was all about fun and rough loving in the bedroom. Sam, you had pegged as the intimate one. 

You hadn’t been wrong necessarily. They had been like that in the bedroom with strangers. Dean didn’t want to connect emotionally with women he didn’t know, and Sam didn’t want to be some woman’s one-night stand nightmare. But when they were with you … their true sexual natures came out. 

Dean wanted to connect with you on every level he could. He wanted to feel something more than the pleasure that wracked his body. He wanted you to feel that too. And the more in love with you he fell, the more affection he craved. 

Sam went the opposite way. He was so terrified of losing you, so desperate to control every move you made so he could keep you safe. On the other hand, he didn’t want to smother you. Didn’t want to trample all over your boundaries. So, he placated his desperate need for control in the bedroom. Much like Dean, the longer he was with you, the more control he demanded. 

Dean made love.

Sam fucked.

Together, they fulfilled every desire you could ever have.

****

Sam sat on the edge of one of the library tables as he watched Cas pace in front of him. Apparently, his crisis with Claire didn’t end when Dean killed Randy. 

“She barely speaks to me,” he said. “She’s like a wounded animal, just watching me.”

Sam spread his hands wide. “Look, Cas, you know what? You really tried to do the right thing that night. You did. This guy Claire was hanging out with, Randy, all he did was use her.”

Cas sighed and leaned against the closest support beam. “Well, she thought he was kind. And for that, she loved him. Shows how little kindness there was in her life. You know, whatever Randy did, he didn’t deserve –”

“No, yeah, I know, I know. I hear you. Dean has had to kill before. We both have. But that was –”

“That was what?”

Sam rose from the table in surprise as Dean entered the room with you by his side. Cas straightened. 

“That was a massacre,” Dean continued. “That’s what it was. There was a time I was a hunter, not a stone-cold killer.” Cas and Sam shared a look. You rested your head on Dean’s shoulder. “You can say it. You’re not wrong. I crossed the line. Guys,” he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, “this thing’s gotta go.”

“That won’t be easy,” Cas said as he eyed the Mark.

“Well, then burn it off! Cut it off.”

“It is more than just a physical thing. It will take a very powerful force to remove the effect.”

Sam shifted closer to his brother. “Dean, we have been through all the lore. There’s nothing.”

“This reaches back to the time of creation,” Cas said. “It may pre-date the lore.” 

He paused, his eyes shifted to you as he remembered the last conversation the two of you had. You didn’t want to be connected to the Mark, but there was no doubt in Cas’s mind that you were. Which meant you were the only lead to the cure. He was confused at first why Sam and Dean hadn’t jumped on that immediately, but the more time he had to think, the more he realised why. 

With their luck, whatever cure you could offer, it would come at a hefty price – your life, if God had any say in it. So, as far as the brothers were concerned, you weren’t even an option. Dean would go back to being a demon before he let you die for him. And Sam would kill himself before he ever sacrificed you. 

So, Cas said nothing of it. Instead, he said, “If we had the demon tablet, maybe.”

“But you said it was missing,” you said. 

“It is.” He pressed his lips together as he thought of the next worst thing to sacrificing you. “There may be another way.”

****

The other way was Metatron. Castiel managed to procure him from heaven with a boatload of terms and conditions attached to the favour. Of course, he’d left out the little detail that Metatron would be locked up in the Winchester dungeon. Somehow, Castiel didn’t think heaven would be so willing to hand Metatron over if they knew he was going straight to you, Sam and Dean.

You wouldn’t have blamed them.

“Lovely room,” Metatron said as he looked around from the metal chair you’d held many a bad guy in. “It’s where you bring the kinky chicks, am I right? Oh, right, you have a wife. This probably isn’t the place you bring them.”

Sam’s jaw ticked as he wrapped Metatron up in chains. “I’ll ask the questions here. You … your only job is to provide information.”

Metatron smiled. “Ah. Well, information does happen to be a specialty. Got about two billion fun facts up here.” He dipped his head down so he could tap his temple. “Of course, whether I choose to cough one up or not is another matter.”

“We need to know how to remove the Mark of Cain from Dean’s arm,” you said.

The smile fell from his face. “What? He’s back? Because of the Mark? So … he’s a demon.”

“No.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, what then?” Neither you nor Sam said anything. “What, did he ‘kill a human’ or something?” Sam crossed his arms and Metatron laughed. “He’s gone nuclear! Total, foaming at the mouth, balls-out maniac. That’s fantastic!”

“Do you know how to remove it?” you said.

“Maybe. But here’s the thing. You expect any help out of me, you keep that crazy husband of yours on a short leash.”

“I don’t care what happens to you,” you snarled. “You killed my husband.” As you said it, Dean’s face wasn’t the only one that flashed through your mind.

It was the first time you’d let yourself think about Gadreel since the day he died.

You tried to keep the thought off your face when Dean walked in. Focusing on the flash of fear in Metatron’s eyes helped a little. Until he recovered too fast for your liking.

“Ain’t life a bitch?” he said. “Nebbishy little guy – me – always sticking it to the lunkhead jocks.” He nodded at you. “And their perfect little cheerleader.”

Your mouth curled up into a smirk. “I used to beat up cheerleaders for fun.”

“Oh, so you’re that emo kid who hung out under the bleachers and snapped after high school?”

Your jaw ticked. “Something like that.”

“You know what, screw the Mark. Let’s just kill him,” Dean said.

“Boy, he really is a mess,” Metatron said. “Who knew the Mark was so toxic? Well, actually, I did.” He got a chuckle out of that. “You know it is going to own you sooner than later.”

“Yeah, so how do we get rid of it?” Sam said.

“What, just like that, social hour’s over?”

“Yes, and now we’re moving on to our keynote speaker.” Sam gestured to him.

“Which is you,” Dean said as he approached Metatron. “With us asking the questions. And me taking the personal pleasure of carving the answers out of you.”

Metatron held his hands up as best he could. “Now, just – whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there, badass! Lighten up! Why do you just assume I’m not gonna be helpful?”

“Because you’re a dickwad,” you said.

He gave you a sweet smile. “But I’m your dickwad. I have a special place in my non-heart for you three. To which end – ta-daa! I’d be tickled to help you pop this biblical zit. To do it, you are gonna need one specific thing. Your old bud – the First Blade.”

Sam straightened. “What?” he growled.

Metatron laughed and looked up at Dean. “As I said: ain’t life a bitch.”

You sighed. “Daddy dearest is really gonna hate this.”

Of course, after a lot of back and forth over whether to even get the Blade, you were the one assigned to contacting Crowley. Over time you’d somehow become the Winchester ambassador for Hell.  
“Kitten. It’s been a while. Back to your former self?” Crowley said when he answered.

“Just the way you like me,” you replied. “Listen. We need to meet ASAP.”

****

You met up with Crowley in an alley in the nearby city. It was dark, the ground was wet, and there was a pungent smell you just couldn’t put your finger on.

“Really, Crowley? Radio silence?” Dean said when the King simply stared at the three of you.

“Say something,” Sam said.

Crowley leaned forward, hands in pockets. “You want me to do what?”

“We need you to bring back –”

“Bring back the Blade? I don’t think so.”

Dean held his hands up. “You don’t have to give the thing to me.”

“I should say not,” Crowley scoffed.

“No no, just retrieve it and hang onto it until we need it.”

Crowley turned his incredulous eyes to you. “You, kitten, you’re the sane one. You on board with this?”

You tried to give him a convincing smile. It didn’t really work out. 

Crowley shook his head and pushed past the three of you. “Insane. You want me to procure the most dangerous weapon on the planet for Dean Winchester, the man who goes mental every time he touches it! I thought you’d wanna go for a beer, catch a film.”

“Look,” you said, “if this plan works …”

“It’s not a plan. It’s a probable death sentence for me and my kind.”

“If it works, it’s better for you,” Sam said. “Look, when the Mark is gone, the Blade can’t operate.”

Dean spread his arms wide. “Win-win. Huh? Win-win.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes at the eldest Winchester. “Stop that. It can’t operate. It’s hidden.”

“Okay, the Blade might be powered down, but the Mark is not. I’m doing everything I can to keep it together. You think the body count around me is high right now? Wait till Hal takes over.”

“We figure you stashed the Blade somewhere far away …” Sam said.

“Damn right,” Crowley snapped. “It’s in a crypt with my bones.”

“All right, well?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I hate Guam this time of year.” He pressed his lips together and thought a moment. “I want to talk to my daughter first. Alone.”

Sam held his hands up. Dean nodded. They backed away to the Impala. 

“I know this is the worst plan ever,” you said as soon as they were out of earshot.

Crowley scoffed. “You’re telling me.”

“But it’s all we have. I can keep Dean –”

“You think I’m worried about Dean?” he said. “I’m not. It’s you I’m worried about. At least with Dean we know what to expect. Screaming, blood, mayhem. But you? We have no idea what that Mark is doing to you, or how you’re connected to it. And you want me to antagonise the bloody thing?”

“You think I forgot what happened to me?” you said. “That it doesn’t bother me I was able to just flick the switch so easily and become … someone else? I might not even be human, Crowley, and that terrifies me. Which is exactly why I’m willing to do anything to get that thing off Dean’s arm.”

You could see the struggle on his face, but what choice did he have? If he truly didn’t have a heart, keeping the Blade would be an easy choice. But you knew him. You knew that deep down in his cruel and twisted soul, there was something in him that cared. Even if it was just for you. 

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Thank you, Crowley. I owe you one.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Those are dangerous words to say the King of Hell.”

You shrugged and began walking backward towards the boys. “I trust you.”

As you went to turn your back on him, he called out to you again. You stopped.

“Why don’t you call me father? Or dad? Or … I don’t know. Something equally sentimental and sickening.”

You tilted your head, confused at the out of the blue question. “We’ve talked about this before,” you said.

“Well, sure, but … would it be so terrible? Really? You can’t deny I’m an upgrade.”

You laughed. “A dog would be an upgrade to what I had.” He rolled his eyes. “What’s gotten into you?”

He blew out a deep breath as though this were the most boring thing he had to suffer through. “Just feeling … sentimental about family is all. Neither of us had very good ones. We found each other. It’s a love story to fill the ages. But if you’re going to be a brat about it …”

You grinned. “Fine. Okay. See you around, Dad.”

You turned your back on him again and headed towards Sam and Dean, laughing as Crowley called out, “Use it sparingly.”

****

“The First Blade is back in play and Crowley is the one getting it?” Cas said as he hung over the railing of the stairs to look down at you and Sam. “I don’t mean to be an alarmist, but you –”

“Yeah well, you know us,” Dean said as he walked in from the library holding a beer. “When we screw ourselves we like to go whole hog.”

‘This would be the Crowley who let the Blade turn Dean into a demon?” Cas said as he walked down the stairs into the war room.

“I don’t have a choice, ’kay? I don’t do this, I’m down the rabbit hole. Hear evil, see evil, do evil. The trifecta.” 

“Cas, look,” Sam said as Dean took the seat next to you, “let us worry about this. You’ve got enough on your plate with Claire.”

Cas shook his head and braced his hands against the back of the chair in front of him. “Claire is gone.”

“Gone where?” you said.

“I don’t know, I – I should have stopped her. But I am certain that she is destined for more trouble and disappointment. She is so … so full of rage.”

“Listen, man, if I could make it better I would,” Dean said.

“It’s actually why I’m here. I was hoping you might reach out to her.”

The three of you looked at him in confusion.

“Me?” Dean said.

“Yes.”

“Seriously, I’m probably the last person she would wanna hear from.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I mean – I think Y/N would be the better choice. She understands more than any of us what Claire is going through.’

You nodded. “Uh, I’d – I’d be happy to talk to her if you want.”

Cas shook his head. “No. It should be Dean. You could explain why you murdered her only friend.”

Dean scoffed and raised the neck of his beer to his lips. “Oh, well, yeah, when you put it like that.”

“All I know,” Cas said as he sank down into the seat opposite Dean, “is she won’t talk to me. I thought if she understood the kind of man Randy was and the danger she was in, she might …”

Dean shrugged. “What the hell, why not? Long shots seem to be the theme around here. I’m gonna go make a sandwich.”

“I’ll come with,” you said.

“They seem calm,” Cas said when the two of you left. “Considering the effects of the Mark. Metatron in proximity.”

“Too calm,” Sam said. “I think they’re worried about what’ll happen if he pops the cork.”

****

Crowley called while you were in the kitchen to let you know he had the Blade. You’d gone out to tell Sam and Cas, but when Cas made to leave the bunker, you all realised Dean was no longer in the kitchen. 

Cas had to blast in the dungeon door just to get to Dean and stop him from killing Metatron. The angel was bloodied and beaten, vowing never again to help a Winchester.

“I have to take him back,” Cas said as he unchained Metatron and pulled him from the chair.

“Cas, this won’t happen again,” Sam said.

“I gave my word. I have fences to mend in Heaven, and as it is, I have a lot to explain.”

“If you ever ask me for help again,” Metatron spat, “I will choose death. You realize it’s going to get worse, Dean. You’re gonna get worse!”

You gave Dean a while to calm down before you found him in the library, head in his hands as he sat at the table.

“You okay?” you said.

He lifted his head. “He said the river ends at the source.”

“What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “Maybe nothing. It was the last thing he said before you guys busted in.”

“Dean. Look, we had to –”

“Hey, no. I get it,” he said as he reached out to you. You went to him and straddled his lap when he leaned back. “I – I was gonna kill him. And I couldn’t stop myself.”

“We’ll figure it out, all right?” you said as you placed your hands on either side of his neck and rubbed your thumbs across his jaw. His hands slid up your thighs and rested on your hips. “You know what Cas said about needing a powerful force?”

“Yeah, so?”

You lifted a shoulder. “So, I’ve been thinking. Look. Cain still has the Mark, right?” He nodded. “And he’s lived with it. For years, he’s lived with it. So yeah, the Mark is strong, but – Dean, maybe there’s a part of you that wants to give in to it. And maybe you have to fight that, you know? Maybe… part of that powerful force has to be you.”

His bottom lip trembled and his eyes turned glassy as he tried to fight back tears. “But it – it’s not just me. If … if I go down the rabbit hole. I take you with me. I can’t – I won’t do that to you again. I … the way I treated you then. It was –”

“Hey, look at me.” He lifted his eyes to yours and you cupped his face more firmly. “I trust you with my life. It won’t happen again.”

He slid his arms around you, trapping you against him. “You don’t know that.”

“Maybe not,” you said as you brushed a tear from his cheek. “But I know you, Dean Winchester. And I know that you would do anything to protect me. To protect us. I will always believe in you. You just have to believe in yourself, too.”

He pulled you into a hard, long kiss. It was salty from his tears but that didn’t stop you. When he pulled away, he cupped your face in his large hands and locked his eyes with yours.

“I love you,” he said. 

His phone rang before you got to say it back.

It was Claire. She’d heard his voicemail from earlier and agreed to meet him. Of course, it wasn’t her that Dean ended up meeting. She’d fallen in with the wrong crowd again, and they’d decided to put Dean at the top of their kill list. He sent them running with their tail between their legs.

Cas tracked down Claire not long after that, and from what you heard, things didn’t seem so bad between them anymore.

He also promised that the next time he thought someone should talk to her, he’d send you.


	59. About A Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's been holding himself up in his room after a nasty incident with Charlie. In an attempt to get him out of the bunker and away from the lore books about the mark, you and Sam take him on an easy hunt. At least ... it was meant to be easy, and Dean was most definitely NOT meant to be turned into a 14-year-old kid.

Dean was sat on his bedroom floor, a lore book in his lap. The same lore book he’d read five times that week. He could pin it all down to trying to find a cure for the Mark, but he knew the truth. All of you knew the truth. He was hiding from himself and what he did to Charlie.

She’d made a sudden appearance back in the real world but so did someone else – Dark Charlie. Something about the key to Oz opening up the darkest parts of Charlie’s soul. Either way, Dark Charlie was hell-bent on taking out the people who’d contributed to the death of Charlie’s parents. Dean took her down, wailing into her until she was unconscious. The Mark took over and suddenly it didn’t matter that Charlie was still physically linked to her other half – that she could feel everything that was happening to her – Dean lost it.

Sam had been on the hunt for a new case ever since. One that had nothing to do with the Mark. 

“Apparently, something is taking people and leaving their clothes,” he said as he entered Dean’s room and handed him the tablet with the news article pulled up. You leaned against the doorframe and watched Dean, knowing just how this was going to go. 

Dean hummed as he began swiping through and enlarging the pictures and files. “About time this gig got an R rating.” Sam chuffed. “Alright. Why don’t you check it out? Me and Y/N will hold down the fort.”

Sam sighed and glanced back at you. “Dean, you haven’t left the bunker in a week.”

Dean tossed the tablet onto the bed behind him when Sam didn’t take it and picked the lore book back up. “And?”

“And you can’t just live the rest of your life locked up in this room.”

“I don’t know. I got three hots and a cot. Could be worse.”

Sam’s arms flexed. You stepped forward and stroked your hand down his back, nodding towards the door when he looked down at you. He pressed his lips together, gave his brother one last look and left. 

Dean sighed when you pulled the lore book from his hands and tossed it to the ground. “Baby –”

“Shut up,” you said as you dropped down to straddled his lap. You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him. 

Despite the sound of content he made, he pushed you back with furrowed brows. “You can’t seduce me into changing my mind. You’ve been with me long enough to know that.”

“And you’ve been with me long enough to know I wouldn’t do that.” 

His jaw ticked. Even something as small as that remark was making him feel guilty. He couldn’t tell what was him and what was the Mark anymore.

You rubbed your hands over his shoulders and chest. “It’s been days since you’ve talked to me properly, let alone kissed me. I miss you.”

It was a simple concern, and you were far from being a clingy woman, but the Mark sparked a feeling of irritation at your neediness that wasn’t really neediness at all. He closed his eyes as nausea twisted his stomach. He never wanted to go back to that version of himself – the version that hated you. 

He took your hand in his and pressed his lips to the palm of it, drawing in your scent and reminding himself that he loved you. That you weren’t being clingy. That he missed you too. 

“I know you’re worried about the Mark,” you said as pushed your other hand through his hair.

“Between what I did to Charlie –”

“Charlie forgave you. How about you forgive yourself?”

He brought your hand down to his chest and looked at you. “Because I’m not exactly batting a thousand here, you know?”

“Yeah, I do know that, but staying locked up in here, sitting on the ground reading the same lore books over and over and over again, it’s not helping you. You need to get back in the game for your own good. You can beat this, Dean.”

“Do you really believe that?” He needed you to because if you didn’t have faith in him than who would?

You smiled and he felt a sense of peace and relief wash over him. “Of course I believe that.”

****

It was a homeless man who’d witnessed the latest disappearance, and not the kind that just needed financial aid.

“And then—then—then there was this bright light,” he said, his grimy layers barely clinging to his body, “and—bam—the dude’s just gone. Nothing left but, uh…”

“Cheap suit and a pair of Florsheims?” Dean said.

The man nodded, baring his yellow teeth as he squinted in the sun. “Pretty much.”

“You see anyone else?” Sam said.

“No, sir, officer.”

“And what about, uh, a chill? Or did you smell any rotten eggs?” Dean said.

“What? No, man. Uh… I smelled flowers, though.”

“You smelled flowers?” you said. “What kind of flowers?”

He thought for a moment, long enough that you actually expected him to come back at you with a breed name. “Flowery Flowers.”

“Flowery Flowers,” Sam said, barely containing his annoyance.

The man looked around quickly before leaning in close. “Look. We all know what’s going on here, okay?”

You closed your eyes. “Don’t say it.”

“Aliens.”

“He said it,” Dean said.

Sam sighed. “Yeah, he did.”

“Dude was abducted,” the man continued. “Believe me, I know.” He looked up at the sky. “May 2003. Those suckers, they grabbed me, and they probed me everywhere.”

“Nope,” you said as you turned on your heel and walked away. Dean followed close behind. Sam thanked the man for his time before joining you.

“Well, the wheels just came flying off the bus,” you said.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “No cold spots – means it probably wasn’t a ghost.”

“No sulfur means no demons,” Dean said, “so that leaves us with what? Couple of little green dudes and a bucket of lube?” You snorted. 

“Or fairies,” Sam said. “Or … angels.”

You sighed. “I’d rather have the little green dudes.” You stopped and turned to them just outside the bar. “Alright, me and Sam can go scope out J.P.’s place. Dean, you, uh—you ask around inside.” He swallowed as the corners of his mouth turned down. His right hand flexed. “Or you know what? We don’t have to split up.”

“No, no, no,” Dean said as he held his hands up. “It’s cool. I gotta – I can’t be with you 24/7. Besides, I can handle a little 20 questions with the locals, okay?”

“You sure?” Sam said.

“Yeah, hey, look, it’s a dive bar. It’s my comfort zone, hmm?” He pulled out the Impala keys and dangled them in front of Sam.

“All right.” Sam took the keys. “Good. Great.” He slapped a hand on his shoulder as he walked past toward the car. 

You went to follow but Dean grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. Before you could get a word out, his hands engulfed your face and his lips pressed against yours. You opened your mouth for him. Let him slide his tongue against yours and nip your lips like you were back home in bed. 

He cleared his throat when he pulled back. “Just a little something to keep me going, yeah?”

You nodded, reached up on the tips of your toes to kiss him again, and then left with Sam.

****

The bar was a bust for the most part. Bartender had nothing nice to say about J.P – the guy who went missing. The only person who would talk to him about it was a woman named Tina, but all she had to say was that he wasn’t all bad. She wouldn’t buy a used car from him, but he was harmless. After that, she was more interested in having some drinks and sharing a laugh. She seemed down on life so Dean obliged, not willing to admit that he was just avoiding the case the best he could.

“How do you know the Royale Motel in Scranton?” she laughed after making it through her own story in tears. 

“My Dad, me and my bro – we got snowed in there for a week,” Dean said as he downed another shot, his cheeks hurting from all the laughter. 

Tina downed her own. “Well, I was there for about three months after my father drank all our money away. Lived on white rice and Tic Tacs until they kicked us out. Good times.”

Dean chuckled. “My Dad was always working, so I came up with about 101 different ways to make macaroni and cheese.”

“Serious?”

“Oh, yeah. Now, add ketchup for spice, hmm? Uh, tuna, hot dogs, fluff marshmallow mix.”

Her nose crinkled. “Ugh! That sounds disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, my brother thought it was exotic,” Dean said with a laugh as he took a swig of his beer. “My wife loves it with hot dogs, though. Can’t get enough of it.”

Tina narrowed her eyes, the corner of her mouth tilted up in a smirk – it reminded him of you. “You mention your wife a lot.” Dean shrugged. You were a part of his life – which meant you were gonna be a huge part of all his stories. “You know what that tells me?”

“What?” 

“Either you guys just got together and you’re still in that honeymoon phase …”

Dean scoffed. “Or?”

“Or, you’re trying to convince yourself not to try and cheat on her with me. Keep bringing her up so I won’t let you make a move. Just so you know, I don’t want any part of that.”

Dean laughed. A loud genuine laugh. “Yeah, you struck out twice. We’ve been together over two and a half years just about. And I could never be unfaithful to that woman. Thought has never even crossed my mind.”

“Never been tempted? Not once?” Tina said – he could see the skepticism in her eyes. He didn’t blame her, he knew what day-drinking, bar-dwelling men were like. He was proud to know that he’d finally become the exception to that rule.

“Not once. She’s the best damn thing to ever happen to me. I’d be an idiot to ruin everything I have with her. Besides, I got everything I need at home – woman’s a damn fox.”  
Tina’s brows raised and she took another shot to hide her smile. “I’ll bet she is.”

“Here,” Dean said as he rummaged around his pocket for his phone. “I got a photo. Wanna see?” 

She laughed when he didn’t give her much of a choice. He pulled up his favourite one of you. You’d been trying to bake him a pie that day. You’d had all the flour mix in the bowl ready to turn into dough when Sam had startled you. In the picture you were laughing, your shirt covered in flour, your hair sticking out all over the place and blotches of flour on your face. Sam was just to the left of you, head thrown back, hand on his chest, eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open in laughter.

It was one of those few precious moments that he treasured. The moments that made all the crap in between worth it. 

Tina let out a low whistle. “Damn. You’re right. You’d be an idiot to step out on that.”

“Right?” Dean said as he spread his arms wide and chuckled in disbelief. 

He and Tina shared a few more drinks, some more stories and toasted to a crappy childhood before his phone rang. 

Tina sighed and sat back in her chair as Dean looked down to see your caller ID on his phone. “Back in the day, I woulda given anything to have a man look like that when I called him.” She downed the rest of her beer and stood before he could comment on that. “I should go.”

He nodded. “Uh … You gonna be okay?”

“I always am,” she said with a wink. Then she pulled her coat on and headed for the exit, stopping along the way to hug it out with the bartender. Presumably over J.P’s death. 

“Hey, baby,” Dean answered. “How we looking?”

“Not great,” you said on the other end of the line. “Turns out J.P. was about three days from getting evicted. His landlord said the guy blasted Neil Diamond 24/7, and that his bathroom was, ‘Like staring into the Devil’s butt.’.”

“That’s vivid.”

You scoffed. “And accurate. I saw it.”

“You saw the John, or, uh –”

“Dean,” you whined in disgust. He smiled. “So, you got anything?”

“Yeah. I got, uh, jack with two scoops of squat.” He looked up again when Tina left the bar. “I don’t know, baby. I think we ought to just call it a night and, uh –” He trailed off as he watched a large man go out after her. It mightn’t have worried him so much if it wasn’t for the determined look on the guy’s face and the jacked up burn scars on it. 

“And what?” you said. “Dean? Hello?”

“Baby, I think I got something.” He hung up without another word. Adrenaline coursed through his body. He wondered if this was what bloodhounds felt like when they caught a scent. 

****

Dean wasn’t where he was meant to be, which wouldn’t have come as a shock if it wasn’t for the fact that his clothes and mobile were being hoarded behind the bar by the tender. After a stern talking to and a – mostly – harmless kick in the ass, he pointed you and Sam to the dumpster out back where you found Dean’s shoes and his gun. Pollen coated the butt of it. Suddenly, that homeless guy didn’t seem so crazy after all.

After some more research back at the motel – and a lot of Sam trying to convince you not to go on a rescue mission for Dean with guns blazing – you learned that the pollen was from a yarrow flower and was often used in transfiguration spells.

Convinced Sam knew what he was doing and Dean would be okay, you tried to take a shower to calm yourself down. You’d stripped down to your underwear when you heard commotion in the room. Thinking Dean was back, you burst out of the bathroom only to pull up short with a yelp and scramble to cover yourself with one of Sam’s shirts.

“What the hell is a kid doing in here?” you said as you stared at the boy – who couldn’t be more than 14 – that was packing a duffel bag with weapons at the dining table.

He looked at you and smiled, his eyes sweeping over your body. “Hey, baby.”

Your jaw ticked. “The kid whose ass I’m gonna kick,” you said as you stalked towards him.

“Woah, hey,” Sam said as he grabbed your arm. “It’s – it’s, uh … Dean.”

Your brow furrowed as you looked up at him. “Dean?”

“Dean.”

You looked at the kid. “Dean?”

“Scarface looking dude,” he said. “Bright light. Now I look like Bieber.”

“Why – why would someone turn you into –”

“Don’t know.” He slipped a gun into the back of his pants. “Don’t care. Hey, we got any grenades?”

“What?”

The kid – Dean – went to walk past the two of you but Sam blocked him, hand raised. “Dude. Wait, wait, wait. Wait a second. Talk to me.”

“Really, Sam? Now?” Dean said. “I got no grass on the infield, and a girl’s gonna die. Sorry if I’m not in a chatty mood. Look, you wanted me back in the game. I’m back in the damn game.” He pushed through to grab a few more things than headed out the door. 

You and Sam chased after him, Sam tugging his coat on, you trying to get your arms through the sleeves of a shirt. Dean was almost at the Impala when the two of you got stopped by an older lady about to head into her motel room. “Your son is so polite,” she said.

You and Sam shared an awkward look as you thanked her. 

“Where are we heading?” you asked Dean when he slapped his hand on the top of the Impala.

“Tell you on the way.”

In the end, Sam had to drive for sake of his legs, and you were on the way to an old farmhouse as Dean told you the story of how he woke up in a dingy room with J.P and Tina, a woman he’d met at a bar – both had been turned into tweens.

“Cake,” you said. “Why would they give you cake?”

“Don’t know. It wasn’t even good cake. Too dry.”

Sam scoffed, and you couldn’t help but stare at Dean. He gave you a once over. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said. He cocked his brow. “Okay, not nothing. Look, this is bizarre. Even for us, Dean. This is insane. You—you’re like—what, you’re like 14? How does it even feel?”

He sighed. “Well, I’m me. I’m—I’m old me, but I’m a kid. It’s freakin’ weird. And …”

Sam glanced at him. “What?”

Dean swallowed. “There was a Taylor Swift song on the bus that I hopped to the motel, and, uh … I liked it, Sam. I liked it a lot.”

You stifled a smile and Sam nodded, trying his best to be calm, cool and collected.

“My voice is weird,” Dean continued, “and I’ve got like nine zits, and I have zero control over this.” He pointed down at his crotch. “I mean, it’s up. It’s down. It’s up for no reason.”

“That’s enough,” Sam said as you laughed. “Yeah, thanks. Uh,” he cleared his throat, “That’s just called puberty.”

“Yeah, which sucks. Again. Can’t stop thinking about Y/N’s – ow!” He narrowed his eyes at you, rubbing the spot on his arm that you’d just hit. 

“Well, listen,” Sam said, “I checked out the alley where you got jumped, and I found yarrow.”

“Which means what?”

“Means we’re probably dealing with a witch,” you said. “Yarrow’s a flower. They use it in a ton of spells.”

“Okay. We still got some of that witch-killing crap in the trunk?”

“Hell, yeah,” Sam said. “So, we’ll get you changed back, and then light Sabrina’s ass up.” Dean was silent. “Right?”

Dean’s tongue flicked out over his bottom lip. “Uh, yeah, about that. It turns out, this whole freak show has an upside.” He pulled up his sleeve to reveal his bare right arm. “The mark is gone.”

“How?”

“Well, I figure if this hoodoo slammed me back into the body I had when I was 14 –”

“You didn’t have the mark then,” you said. 

“Yeah, and if we reverse the spell –”

“Then it’s gonna come back.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Dean said. “So…maybe we don’t.”

“Wait a second,” Sam said. “Are you saying you want to stay like this?”

“No,” Dean said. He thought for a moment and then let out another sigh. “No, but … if it’s between being a psycho rage monster slash borderline demon or a teenager, well …:”

“Really?”

“Look, I’m not a fan, either, but … guys, this is problem solved. And I’m still me. I can still hunt. I’m just, you know … dewier.”

“Okay,” you said, “look, y-you have a point, kind of, but, Dean –”

“I know. Some good news, though – I’m a virgin and you’re a cougar.” He smiled at you. “That’ll be fun.”

“Sure,” you said. “I mean, we can start having sex again in, what, like six years?”

Sam laughed and Dean turned wide eyes to you. “That’s not funny,” he said.

You smiled. “That’s kind of funny.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Oh, come on, man,” Sam said. “It’s definitely funny.”

****

Hansel and fucking Gretel. Minus Gretel – eaten by her half-burnt, brute of a brother – and plus the evil witch that ate children. Dean was borderline useless in his new – old? – body. Tina, the woman he’d been captured with, was a tween tied up and gagged in the corner of the room. You and Sam had a harder time than usual, Katja being an older, more powerful witch than you’d gone up against in the past. 

The only time you’d managed to get the drop on her was when she mentioned being sent to America by the Grand Coven to kill Rowena – the redheaded witch you’d run into last – and you mentioned you knew her. Even then, however, she managed to get you and Sam backed into a corner and Dean half unconscious. 

It wasn’t until Dean finally gave in and squeezed the hex bag – like Hansel had said – to turn himself back to his rightful state that the tables finally turned. Hansel was skewered and the witch was burnt to a crisp along with the hex bag. 

“That was crazy,” Tina said – still in her tween state – as the three of you stood outside. “Like psycho crazy. And you do this all the time?”

“All the freakin’ time,” Dean said.

“Not all the time,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes as you chuckled.

Tina’s eyes turned to you. She studied you a moment, long enough for you to give Dean a questioning look. “You must be the wife,” she said at last.

Dean grinned and slung his arm over your shoulders. “She sure as hell is.”

Tina smiled. “That picture he has doesn’t do you justice. You’re one lucky gal.” You pressed your lips together to stifle your smile as you leaned into Dean. He kissed the top of your head as Tina looked to Sam and said, “So… can you turn me back?”

Dean tensed beside you. “The hex bag went up in flames. I’m so sorry, Tina.”

The corners of her mouth turned down and she shifted on her feet.

“We may be able to reverse engineer the spell, though,” you said.

Her eyes turned to the window next to her, after a moment, a thought seemed to cross her mind. “Or maybe you don’t,” she said to you.

“Come again?” Sam said.

“I got three ex-husbands, 50 grand in debt, and not much else. I was … kind of a crappy adult. Maybe I’ll do better this time around. Get out of town, get a fresh start. This is my second chance. Everybody wants a second chance, right?”

The corner of Dean’s mouth quirked up. “Sure you’re gonna be all right?”

“Like I told you, I always am.”

“Can we at least give you a ride somewhere?” you said. 

She thought a moment, then nodded.

****

You drop Tina at the nearest bus station with some cash and your last goodbyes.

As you headed back to the Impala, Sam’s hand smoothing down the back of your head and resting on your shoulder, Dean said, “So … Grand Coven. Any ideas?”

“Doesn’t sound good,” Sam said.

You leaned back against the passenger side of the Impala and face them. “Sounds like an 80’s hair-metal band. You know, lot of hairspray, lot of eyeshadow, lot of keytar.” Sam chews on his lip and stares at the roof of the Impala over your shoulder. Dean’s lips quirk up but his heart isn’t in it. “No? Nothing?” you said. “Come on, guys. I’m painting a word picture here.”

“Is it back?” Sam said, turning his eyes to his brother.

Looking like he’d rather cut it off, Dean slid his sleeve back over his arm to reveal the mark. “Look, I know what you’re going to say, okay? But you were in deep.”

“I know. I know. You saved me, and you saved Tina, and…pulled a Dean Winchester.” Dean seems taken back by that. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

Dean pulled one of his hands from his pocket and cupped the side of your neck, rubbing his thumb against your jaw. “You don’t need to thank me for anything. Ever.”

You kissed his palm and let him draw you into the warmth of his side.

“Look, man,” Sam said, “do I wish the mark was gone? Yes, of course. Absolutely, I do, but… I wanted you back. And now here you are, and you didn’t Hulk out, so …” Sam shrugged. “I’ll take the win. As for the rest of it—the mark, everything else … we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Dean nodded and wrapped his arms around you. As he pressed his face into your hair, he felt a sense of calm fall over him. For a short moment, he felt like he could actually beat this thing.


	60. To New Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three of you had agreed to start fresh - a clean slate for your relationship - but you discover that you have one last thing to take care of before you can be the person you want to be.

“What did Cas say?” Dean said as he hoisted himself onto one of the library tables. 

“Uh, good news, bad news,” Sam said. “Bad news – he discovered riverboat gambling. Good news – he thinks he might be closing in on Cain.”

Dean’s brows lifted. “Oh wow. He thinks he might be.”

“Yeah. Just east of the Mississippi somewhere in Illinois.”

Dean picked up the coffee sitting next to him and took a sip. “So maybe Cas finds Cain in the land of Lincoln. And then what?”

Sam held his hands out to his side as though it were obvious. “And then we get him to tell us how to get rid of the mark.”

Dean shook his head, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip. “Don’t you think that if Cain knew how to remove the mark, he would have done it, like centuries ago?”

“We won’t know ‘til we try.”

Dean sighed, glad that you weren’t there to team up against him. “Sammy, I appreciate the effort, man. I do. But trying to find a cure for this thing, i-it’s like a dog chasing its tail. There’s no end in sight and you just end up dizzy.”

Sam pressed his lips together. “Dean, where there is a will –”

“There is a case. Hmm?” Dean set his coffee down and picked up the tablet. “Check this out. Iowa teen claims possessed pickup kills driver.” He held the tablet out to his brother. “Let’s say we take our own trek to, uh, the Midwest.”

Sam sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “Okay. I’ll go pack and get Y/N.”

“No can do. She’s with Crowley.”

Sam’s brows shot up. “Again?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah. I guess they want to strengthen their ‘daddy-daughter’ bond. Or something equally gross.”

Sam shook his head and set the tablet down. “I don’t buy it, man.”

“What? You think Crowley’s tryna recruit her? Showing her all the ‘we need you’ flyers?’

“No. I think Y/N’s hiding something.”

Dean seemed taken aback by that. He slid off the table, his brows furrowing in a mix of disbelief and confusion. “You think she’d do that right now? I mean, all things considered, the three of us are in a pretty good place. We promised to start fresh. Clean slate. Everything out on the table.”

Sam dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. “I don’t know. I mean, you were occupied with the Mark and Charlie, so you didn’t notice but … she’s been weird ever since then.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know. Quiet. I think Dark Charlie said something that got to her. She seems … preoccupied.”

Dean sighed and leaned back against the table. Sam had to be seeing things – he had to be. This was meant to be a fresh start for the three of you. No secrets. You wouldn’t turn your back on that. “No. No way. She would tell us if something was up.”

“Look, maybe it’s not like that. Maybe she’s just trying to figure stuff out before she lets us in on it. But … I don’t know. Dark Charlie says something and she gets all weird and decides to spend more time with Crowley? It seems like something’s going on.”

“Okay. Say something is wrong? Why would she go to Crowley of all people? She’s never gone to him for help with her depression or – or anything like that.”

Sam shrugged. “What if it’s got nothing to do with that? Or what if it’s more? I mean, Crowley had a pretty big influence on her childhood. What if it’s got to do with that?”

“So, does Cas. Why wouldn’t she just go to him?”

“Yeah, but, he’s not the one who has her parents holed up in some endless cycle of torture in Hell.”

The Mark itched on Dean’s arm. Just the thought of your parents tightened his jaw. Every morning he woke up next to you, he’d roll over and just watch you. He couldn’t believe that someone could have it in them to hurt you like that. The times he’d hurt you before … it felt like he could barely survive it. Even though it had all been reconciled and you were both past it, the guilt still ate him up sometimes. 

“You think this has something to do with them?” Dean said. Sam shrugged again. “I don’t know, man. Charlie doesn’t know anything about her parents – Dark Charlie wouldn’t have had anything to say about them.”

“It was just a thought,” Sam said. “Look, we’ll do this case – give Y/N some space. When we get back we’ll ask her about it. 

****

You never thought you would want to see them again. In fact, you were a hundred percent sure you never wanted to even think about your parents again. And then you met Dark Charlie, and of course, she got into your head with all her talk of liking the darkness. 

It wasn’t new – you thinking you were a monster. You’d been down this same road so many times you knew it like the back of your hand. If you’d gone to Sam and Dean, you knew they would have helped you through it. They would have given you a speech, made love to you, and you’d somehow convince yourself you weren’t a bad person.

But you didn’t want to do that this time. How could you when the worst thing you’d ever done was still sitting in Hell, right behind the door in front of you.

The stone was harsh and cold against your backside. Your eyes burned, and your ears were ringing from the shrieks and horrid wet sounds coming from behind the door you stared at. For the life of you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t leave. Ever since you saw Charlie again, you’d been down in Hell at least twice a week. It wasn’t something that Crowley would normally allow, but you were his daughter, as far as he was concerned, Hell was just as much your home as his. You were always welcome.

The irony in that wasn’t lost on you.

“You snuck in through the back door this time,” Crowley said. You hadn’t heard him approach, and you couldn’t drag your eyes from the door. “Should I be offended?”

“I just summoned a crossroads demon,” you said. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

“Or … maybe you didn’t want to hear what I might have to say.”

You didn’t reply, and neither of you really knew if that was an affirmative in and of itself. 

He slid down onto the ground across from you and leant his head back against the door. You had no choice but to look at him.

“All these years … why the sudden interest in your parents now?”

You lifted a shoulder. “I just want to see them.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

His brow furrowed. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Because you’re my daughter. And despite what everyone may think, despite what I tell myself, I can’t help but care about family.”

It was a short while of contemplation before you said, “I can’t be the person I want to be if they’re still down here.”

“And what kind of person do you want to be, kitten?”

“Someone who doesn’t find so much comfort in the dark.”

****

When Sam and Dean came back from the case almost a week later, Sam was still concerned over Dean’s apparent acceptance that the Mark was just a part of his life now. That lasted all of two minutes before they found you, wailing and bloodied, on the library floor. 

Sam ran to your side as Dean drew his gun and searched for the threat. Sam’s knees hit the floor hard. He tried to get you to look at him, begging you to tell him what was wrong. All you could do was scream and sob over your bloodied hands and shirt.

Sam’s eyes welled and panic set in. The woman he loved was in pain and he had no idea how to fix it. 

“Baby, please,” he said. “Tell me where you’re hurt. Tell me how to fix it.”

“You can’t,” Crowley said. Dean swung around, his finger twitching over the trigger. “She’s not hurt. She’s traumatised.”

“What the hell did you do?” Dean growled. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as you let out another wail. “Sam.”

Your sobs grew distant as Sam scooped you up in his arms and took you from the room. 

Crowley’s eyes moved to Dean when you were out of sight. Dean had never seen the man look so haunted. 

“I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake,” Crowley said. 

****

You threw up in Sam’s toilet three times and cried some more before he got a word out of you. Unfortunately, it wasn’t anything he wanted to hear.

“I can’t – I can’t do this anymore. I’m just like them.” You sobbed and hiccupped through the words.

Sam’s blood ran cold. He prayed that you weren’t talking about who he thought you were. That you hadn’t gone to see them. He wished there was another reason you’d have been in Hell all this time.

He grasped your face between his hands and forced you to look at him. “Y/N. Hey, look at me. You gotta tell me what happened. Okay? You have to let me fix this. I can fix this. You are not like your parents. Just … please.” Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he watched you drift away. The sense of loss was devastating, and he knew in that moment, that if you didn’t make it through this, he wouldn’t be able to either. “Let me fix this.”

****

Crowley never saw the punch coming. He should have. Normally he would. Perhaps he felt he deserved it. Or perhaps it had just been Dean he’d expected the punch to come from and Sam to be the understanding one. That wasn’t at all the case.

It appeared that everyone but Dean had underestimated Sam’s attachment to you. 

Looking up at Sam from his place on the ground, jaw aching, Crowley couldn’t help but notice that the look he saw on the Winchester’s face was the same look he’d seen on the many addicts that traipsed through Hell. 

You were the new demon blood, only this time Dean helped his brother feed the addiction. God save the brainless soul that ever tried to force Sam to give you up.

It was a struggle, but Dean managed to hold his brother back as Crowley pushed to feet and wiped the blood from his mouth.

“What the hell did you do to her?”

“Sam, stop,” Dean growled with one last shove. “You need to listen.”

“Can’t say I’m too inclined to talk to Moose right now,” Crowley grumbled as he smoothed his hands over his coat. 

Dean turned and jabbed a finger in his direction. “You’re gonna tell him what you told me, or I’m gonna let him loose on you. You deserve worse for what you put Y/N through.”

Crowley put his hands up in surrender. “Fine.” He strolled over to Dean’s whiskey and glasses. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that our little kitten has been spending some time down in Hell. Her family home, if you will.” With a glass of whiskey in hand, he sank down onto one of the library chairs and kicked his feet up onto the table.

Sam’s jaw ticked, his hands shook. If Dean was being honest, he wasn’t entirely sure that Sam would let Crowley leave the bunker alive that day. And if it weren’t for you, Dean knew he wouldn’t stand in Sam’s way.

“Did you take her to see her parents?” Sam ground out through clenched teeth.

Crowley’s brows raised in surprise. “You got her to talk? I couldn’t even get her to look at me.”

“No, Crowley,” Sam snapped. “She’s traumatised, but I’ve loved her long enough to know the only thing that can make her like this is them. What the hell were you thinking?”

“She came to me,” Crowley growled. “You don’t think I know it was a bad idea? You’ve got no clue what it’s like when that woman gets an idea in her head.”

Sam and Dean shared a look. “Why did she want to see them?” Dean said.

Crowley downed the whiskey and stood. “Why does she want to do anything?”

“Just answer the question,” Sam growled.

“She did it for the two of you. Fresh start – ring a bell? She didn’t think she could do it if her parents were still suffering in hell. She wanted to kill them – I was going to send their souls somewhere she didn’t have to worry about.” He shrugged. “She couldn’t do it. They didn’t exactly have skin or … much of anything left when she saw them. As a child, she told me that when they died she wanted them to feel on the outside what they made her feel on the inside. I possessed her. Just for a few seconds. Being the King of Hell, I’ve grown a taste for pain, but what she felt … it’s not the kind of pain I enjoy. They begged her and her mind just … snapped.”

Dean could practically feel Sam vibrating next to him. “Okay,” Dean said, shifting forward to put himself further between Crowley and Sam. “You need to leave.” Crowley began to protest but Dean cut him off. “You have five seconds, Crowley. After that, you’re not leaving here alive.”

****

Dean sent Sam out for food. It was the last thing his youngest brother wanted to do, not to mention there was plenty of food in the kitchen, but Sam was too riled up. Too out of his mind with grief and fury. Dean wasn’t entirely sure that his brother wouldn’t just go out and kill some demons, but he needed to be away from you. He needed to calm down because right now you were on the edge of falling back down that pit you’d fought so hard to pull yourself out of all these months. 

You were curled up in a tight ball on Sam’s bed. Right on the edge, as though you were denying yourself the comfort of stretching out and relaxing. You’d stopped crying, but your face was patchy and stained. Your nose red. Your eyes swollen. He knew you probably had a headache. He also knew you weren’t going to take pain medication or drink any water he gave you. 

This was your cycle of punishment. Deny yourself basic needs and comforts. When that stopped working, you’d resort to more bloody forms of self-harm. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, staring at the ground as he sat himself down on the edge of the bed. He almost didn’t hear your words, but it was a knife in the gut to know that was your first reaction to him. He didn’t blame you. The last time you’d been down this road, he’d almost taken your head off out of fear of losing you. 

He was still terrified of losing you, but he knew how to manage those fears now. He knew to keep calm. He knew that blaming you would make things worse. He’d learned how to love you properly. 

Rough fingers scraped against your skin as he pushed your hair back from your face. “Look at me,” he said, voice soft. You did. “I still love you, Y/N. And I’m so sorry for what you went through.”

Your bottom lip trembled. He caught you around the waist when you unfurled and launched yourself at him. You sobbed and sniffled. Dean squeezed you. Cooed in your ear and ran his fingers through your hair. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’m going to make this right. When Sammy gets back, he’s going to take care of you, and I’m going to make all this go away.”

****

Dean was covered in blood and more at peace than he’d been in a long time when he got home the next morning. The mark had been fed and he’d slain the biggest monster in your closet. For once, he felt like he’d accomplished something. Like he’d done something truly good.

The three of you barely spoke to one another that day, but you didn’t need to. Words would never describe how your relationship had been affected by this. You had all believed that the three of you had a future together, but this just cemented it. You were all in this for the long haul. There was no turning back. No getting off before the ride ended. This was it.

You’d been cuddled up with Sam in the library when Dean got back. And despite the fact he was covered in your parents’ blood – despite the fact he’d just killed them – you let Dean hold you. He could feel your love in the way you squeezed him. Your gratitude in the way you looked at him. 

There was that feeling in the air – like something had finally been beaten. Like it was the start of a new stage in your relationship. The day Sam and Dean had shared you in that motel had been the start of change. The death of your parents was the last thing that had been wiped off the slate. 

It was finally a new beginning and you were all determined to make this one count.


End file.
